by Tom Reamy
The Wolf Clan arrived at the pavilion almost simultaneously with the Weavers and Eagles. Blue Eyes suppressed a grin when he saw Swift Wing, the Eagle Prez. His feathered robe and headdress of state made Blue Eyes think of an exploding turkey, and he wore so many metal ornaments he clanked when he walked. Blue Eyes looked at Water Foot and their chins quivered. All those in the Eagle procession were heavily laden with intricate metal decorations of state; much finer than anything offered by their traders to the other clans.
Black Spider, the Weaver prez, wore tight-fitting black pants and shirt, delicately woven with a minute red pattern and bouncing with red tassels and fringes. Each clan carried its special art to its most elaborate extreme in the protocol ceremonies.
Slaves, making last minute adjustments to the pavilion, darted away. Seven folding chairs made of leather and graybeard stalks had been arranged in a row at the open front of the pavilion—the seventh would remain unoccupied; the Badger chief would not appear, but protocol declared he be provided a chair nevertheless. Seven other chairs were behind those; seven more to the right, and seven to the left. The Wolf and Eagle totems had been positioned on either side of the Weaver totem.
The three processions stopped twenty feet from the pavilion and waited. People from the three clans, those who had nothing more important to do, followed at a respectable distance and gathered in the background to watch the ceremonies. After a moment the totem-bearer of the Weaver Clan stepped ahead and turned at the front row of chairs to face the processions. He held the Weaver totem before him.
“I am True Finger, Vice-Prez of the Weaver Clan,” he said sonorously. “May the Overlords go blind and deaf and the sniffers clog their noses with mud during this Gathering of the Brotherhood of the People.” He stepped back to the second row of chairs.
The totem-bearer of the Eagles marched forward, clanking slightly, and swept a glare over the assemblage. “I am Wild Bird, Vice-Prez of the Eagle Clan,” he boomed. “May the Overlords have their eyes and ears torn out by eagles and the sniffers fall into piles of rust during the Gathering of the Brotherhood of the People,” he finished, topping True Finger in ferocity. He moved back with the Weaver vice-prez who gave him a malevolent look from the corner of his eyes.
Three Toes moved forward. “I am Three Toes, Vice-Prez of the Wolf Clan. May the Overlords have their entrails eaten by black wolves and the sniffers suck up a family of skunks during this Gathering of the Brotherhood of the People.” He joined the other two. Blue Eyes wasn’t sure he had bested Wild Bird in his disdain for the Overlords and sniffers or not, but Three Toes, by the expression on his face, seemed to think he had.
Black Spider moved to the first row of chairs, a shimmer of tassels and fringes. “I am Black Spider, Prez of the Weaver Clan. The Law of the Brotherhood of the People must not be broken at this Gathering.” He spoke off-handedly; his position made pomposity unnecessary. He sat in the front row of chairs with dignity and indifference.
The Eagle chief clanked and rustled; his indifference verging on boredom. “I am Swift Wing, Prez of the Eagle Clan. The Law of the Brotherhood of the People must not be broken at this Gathering.” He sat, secure that he had scored points in indifference by omitting a part of the invocation. A quiet murmur, quickly hushed, rippled through the gathered Eagles. Blue Eyes raised an eyebrow at Water Foot who wrinkled his nose.
Red Tooth strode forward, his tooth and claw ornaments ticking faintly. “I am Red Tooth, Prez of the Wolf Clan. The Law of the Brotherhood of the People must not be broken at this Gathering.” Blue Eyes suppressed a grin. Red Tooth had topped the other chiefs by being so indifferent he did not bother even to compete.
The proff and emdee of the Weaver Clan moved forward together. Both were dressed, with the exception of the totems on their chests, identically to Long Ear and Night Runner. Their only vanities were their beards, styled and looped and curled and braided in unbelievable intricacies. Blue Eyes saw Long Ear scowling; his beard was obviously the least elaborate of the bunch. Blue Eyes felt sorry for someone.
“I am Dark Water, Proff of the Weaver Clan, gatherer and teacher of Knowledge and Master Weaver and Guardian of the Secrets of the Loom. Tough I am, tainted with the Forbidden Secrets of the Old People, I keep my Clan pure from Wizardry and protect them from the all-seeing eyes of the Overlords and the all-smelling noses of the Sniffers.” Dark Water, like all the proffs Blue Eyes had ever heard, had a habit of talking in capital letters.
“I am Graybeard, Emdee of the Weaver Clan, healer of aches and pains and mender of bones. I have many new secrets to exchange with my brother emdees.” They separated and sat in the groups of chairs to either side of the chiefs.
“I am Sharp Talon, Proff of the Eagle Clan, Master Smith and Guardian of the Secrets of the Forge. Though I am half mad with the Forbidden Secrets of the Old People, I keep my Clan pure and destroy Wizardry wherever it may appear. The Overlords and sniffers are eyeless and noseless against my knowledge.” Blue Eyes sighed under his breath. Sharp Talon always said exactly the same thing Gathering after Gathering.
“I am Lone Feather, Emdee of the Eagle Clan, Master Healer with many secret herbs and potions to exchange with my brother emdees.”
Blue Eyes’ attention began to wander. The sun was warm, the air was heavy and fragrant with the smoke from the cooking fires and the nutty aroma of boiling graybeard pods. He boredly scanned the assembled crowd and spotted the Weaver girl he had seen at the river. She caught his eye and smiled shyly. Blue Eyes got a smug look on his face and turned back to the ceremony, all his attention to protocol and duty.
“I am Night Runner, Proff of the Wolf Clan, Master of the Hunt and Teacher of Good Knowledge. I have long ago gone completely mad with the Forbidden Secrets of the Old People. I keep my Clan pure and seek out Wizardry and destroy it wherever I go. The Overlords are but blind moles and the Sniffers nothing but mice against my enormous knowledge.”
“I am Long Ear,” Long Ear said and touched his beard self-consciously, “Emdee of the Wolf Clan. My secrets of healing and mending are so numerous that it is doubtful my brother emdees will ever be able to trade for all of them.” As Night Runner and Long Ear took their places, the ceremony was over. The people dispersed, getting back to the serious business of trading. Blue Eyes looked for the Weaver girl, but she was not in sight. Two honor guards from each clan remained on duty, but Blue Eyes and the others began wandering off. He was headed for the Weaver encampment when he heard his name. He turned as Water Foot took him by the arm.
“Blue Eyes,” Water Foot grinned. “I’m for the river. I feel like I’m carrying half the prairie on my skin. Join me. We’re next on duty.”
“Not now. I have other matters to attend to,” Blue Eyes said and grinned knowingly.
“The Weaver girl?” Water Foot laughed. “Did you ask her name?”
“Of course not,” Blue Eyes said in a tone that showed he was no infatuated cub.
“I find the river is the best place to make arrangements. When the sweet things see me without my tunic, I have only to choose among them,” Water Foot said, puffing out his chest and tightening his buttocks.
Blue Eyes laughed. “Keep your knife at hand to fight them off.”
Water Foot waved and trotted off toward the river. The clan leaders were in heavy conversation in the pavilion as slaves scurried among them passing out rough, hand-made cigars and lighting them with burning twigs. Blue Eyes started again for the Weaver camp, but was stopped by a new interruption.
An old woman, her elaborate braids frizzled and damp from perspiration, entered the pavilion in a staggering run from the direction of the Eagle camp. Her feet scuffled in the dust and she wheezed from exertion. She fluttered her hands and gasped for breath as she curtsied quickly to the chiefs and stumbled on to the emdees. Conversation stopped as they stared at her.
“Emdee! Emdee!” she croaked to Lone Feather. “Come quickly! Long Knife’s woman is giving birth! She is having much trouble. I cannot stop the
bleeding!”
Lone Feather looked at the other emdees and sighed at the responsibility of office. They nodded in agreement. The midwife scurried back toward the Eagle camp. Lone Feather took his satchel and followed at a stately pace. The old woman paused, returned to him, then scuttled ahead again. Blue Eyes, touched with curiosity, followed along after the emdee, as did a number of other people. The other clan officials, however, showed no interest and resumed their conversations.
Long Knife stood nervously outside his tent. The woman would pick just this moment to give birth, just the moment when he had important trading to do. A small crowd had gathered, mostly women and slaves. Long Knife fidgeted, seemingly unable to stop the movement of his feet. He would start toward the tent opening and then fear to see what was inside.
The midwife lurched through the crowd, shooing them away with her hands. They ignored her, but immediately moved back to allow Lone Feather to pass. He entered the tent. Long Knife looked after him with relief. The people pressed forward to peek in.
Blue Eyes stood on the edge, his interest waning. The Weaver girl was more important than all this. He only gradually became aware of the low moans of a woman, muffled as if a hand were held over her mouth. Those around the tent pressed closer.
Long Knife gasped, breathed in ragged flutters. Suddenly the moans became high-pitched grunts, then short, breathless screams of pain. There was a commotion in the tent and other women screamed, not in pain, but in fright.
The tent flap was flung back and the midwife ran out, whimpering, holding her hands as if they were contaminated. Two other women hurried out, both pale and one sobbing. A small whine escaped from Long Knife’s tight throat. Lone Feather stepped from the tent. Blue Eyes was surprised to see the emdee so obviously shaken. His knuckles were white from the pressure with which he clasped the satchel of herbs and potions.
“Bring…” His voice cracked and he swallowed. “Bring Sharp Talon. There is Wizardry here.”
The people drew back, little horrified, but thrilled, murmurs running through them. A slave ran to get the Eagle proff. “Long Knife’s woman has been infected by a Wizard,” Lone Feather said quietly, his voice barely under control. “She has given birth to a Wizard’s child.”
The people drew back farther. Blue Eyes, his eyes bright with excitement, moved closer, craning to see. Long Knife, his face the color of old ashes, stooped to enter the tent. Lone Feather grabbed his arm and pulled him away unresisting.
“No!” Lone Feather said sharply. “Keep away. Only the Proff has the Good Knowledge to combat Wizardry.”
Long Knife turned slowly, stricken with the knowledge of what was to come.
Blue Eyes licked his dry lips. The woman in the tent still moaned, a sound that made the skin on his arms prickle.
Then Sharp Talon arrived followed by another crowd of people. The news spread quickly through the Gathering. He entered the tent without a word or sideways glance. It was seldom that a combatter of Wizardry had a chance to do so in such a spectacular way. The crowd waited with a solemn and fearful hush. Blue Eyes edged closer, then stepped back quickly as Sharp Talon emerged suddenly.
The crowd shrieked and staggered back. The men paled and the women covered their eyes. Blue Eyes stared in fascination.
Sharp Talon held the baby by one foot, over his head like a cluster of graybeard pods. His eyes burned with fierce little flames. The baby’s arms dangled below its misshapen head and the umbilical cord flopped around, staining the proff’s black robes with blood. The baby’s skin was a bluish color and didn’t seem to fit together the right way. It was smeared with drying blood. The baby was quite dead. The eyes were big and black and open and seemed to stare at Blue Eyes.
He swallowed and took half a step backward.
Sharp Talon motioned two Eagle warriors into the tent. They hesitated only briefly, then went inside. The moans changed in pitch. The two men backed out, dragging Long Knife’s woman by the arms. She was naked. Blood covered her thighs and trailed across the flattened grass. She struggled with feeble strength and tried to scream, but was too weak even for that.
Long Knife still stood with his back to the tent. His shoulders hunched and quivered, but he did not turn around.
The woman twisted around weakly, searching the crowd for him with glazed eyes. She found only his back.
Blue Eyes watched the defeat settle on her features and felt his stomach knot.
Sharp Talon motioned to the Eagle warriors. They grasped the woman’s shoulders and held her to the ground. One of them took hold of her disheveled braids and pulled her head back. Sharp Talon, still holding the blood-smeared baby, pulled his knife, bent down, and cut her throat.
Blue Eyes winced. He wanted to shut his eyes, wanted to shut his ears to the sound of her breath gurgling away through her bloody neck. His stomach felt funny, but he knew this was right, knew that all traces of Wizardry had to be removed without mercy. He knew all that, but his stomach still felt funny.
Two slaves pushed through the crowd pulling a flat-bottomed two-wheeled cart. Sharp Talon tossed the baby on it as if it were a piece of rotten meat. The warriors picked up the body of Long Knife’s woman and tossed it also on the cart. The slaves pulled it on, creaking under the weight, away from the encampment toward the open prairie.
Sharp Talon held up his arms for attention. “There is no longer any reason to fear,” he said, satisfied. “The Wizard child is dead. The woman who has had intercourse with Wizardry has been punished. Once more I have cleansed the Clan of impurity. Go back to your work. There is no longer any reason to fear.”
Sharp Talon turned to follow the cart. Lone Feather joined him, matching his stride. Several in the crowd followed them, but most went back to their activities. Blue Eyes watched the cart bounce across the uneven ground for a moment, then turned back toward the Weaver camp.
He took one last look at Long Knife, still standing with hunched shoulders, all alone.
Acknowledgements
“Twilla” appeared in the September 1974 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. “Under the Hollywood Sign” appeared in Orbit 17, edited by Damon Knight. “Beyond the Cleft” appeared in Nova 4, edited by Harry Harrison. “San Diego Lightfoot Sue” appeared in the August 1975 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. “Dinosaurs” appeared in New Dimensions 6, edited by Robert Silverberg. “The Sweetwater Factory” appeared in Lone Star Universe, edited by George Proctor and Steve Utley. “Mistress of Windraven” appeared in Chacal #1, 1976. “The Detweiler Boy” appeared in the April 1977 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. “Insects in Amber” appeared in the January 1978 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. “Waiting for Billy Star” appeared in Shayol #2, 1978. “2076: Blue Eyes” appeared in Shayol #3, 1979.
All characters in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
copyright
SAN DIEGO LIGHTFOOT SUE
AND OTHER STORIES
An Ace Science Fiction Book
published by arrangement with the author’s agent
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace edition/August 1983
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1979 by the Estate of Tom Reamy
“Embrace the Departing Shadow”
Copyright © 1979 by Harlan Ellison.
Cover art by David Heffernan
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address:
Virginia Kidd,
538 East Hartford Street,
Milford, Pennsylvania 18337
ISBN: 0-441-74956-9
Ace Science Fiction Books are published by
The Berkley Publishing Group,
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New York, New York 10016.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
&nbs
p; Anticopyright
Title: San Diego Lightfoot Sue
Author: Tom Reamy
Genre: science fiction
Source: Ace paperback edition, published August, 1983
Process: Scanned, OCR'd and proofed.
Date of e-text: October 22, 2013
Prepared by: Antwerp
Comments: As far as I know, this is the only existing e-text of this book.
Notes about scanning:
I'm hardly an expert, but for what it's worth here's what I've learned so far:
1. The hardest part of scanning a book is steeling yourself to unbind your book. It may help to remember that standard mass-market paperbacks were never made to last. If your bookshelf is anything like mine, paperbacks more than ten years old are already showing signs of age. At fifteen to twenty years, the pages are yellowing and the binding is starting to crack and loosen. They won't last much longer as a readable book, and may no longer be available in any format.
Sometimes you really do have to destroy the village in order to save it.
2. The trick to unbinding a standard paperback is heat (even if you're careful, cutting can damage the text, especially with an old cheap paperback). A heavy cast-iron skillet works well. Pre-heat the skillet to "medium". Place just the binding edge on the surface of the skillet for a couple of seconds. The pages should start to loosen enough to gently pull free. Be careful not to over-heat - you only want to soften the binding glue, not liquefy or vapourise it. I don't know the flash-point of binding glue or what it's made of, but it's probably not something you want to breathe. Carefully separate out the individual pages, re-heating the binding edge as needed. Don't neatly re-stack the pages, leave them in a loose pile until they've fully cooled. Watch out for glue strings and blobs.
3. Make sure your scanner will do at least 600dpi. I know all the OCR guides say 300 dpi, but the text in paperbacks is pretty small and you have contend with cheap fibrous paper and background discolouration, not to mention tea stains and such. 600 dpi gives you and your software something to work with. I find that scanning in Photo mode, greyscale, dark (underexposed), at high contrast seems to get the best results. Play around with your scanner's settings until you get something that works for your OCR program.