Enemy Papers

by Barry B. Longyear

  It was before that first night’s fire, the sand cold from the night, that Uhe stood before the tribal masters.

  Uhe said:

  “Bantumeh, great and honored ruler of the masters of the Mavedah, this night you have tasted the flesh of my child, Leuno.”

  Bantumeh, once tall, powerful and strong, covered its face with its hands. “Your shame is our shame, poor Uhe.”

  When its hands pulled away, they uncovered a face wrinkled with age, pain, and the scars of many challenges to the rulership of the Mavedah. “Uhe,” said Bantumeh. “We have all tasted either child, sibling, parent, or friend this year. There is no choice. To put our minds aside as we eat to keep the Mavedah alive is our sole hope. Your grief is understood; your reminder is out of place.”

  At the rebuke Uhe did not retire from the ring of masters, but instead pointed east toward the Akkujah Mountains. “There, Bantumeh, is food for the Mavedah.”

  Bantumeh stood, its face crossed with anger. “You would have the Mavedah violate the tabus? Aakva’s own law? Could we do such a thing, do you not think that I would already have done so?”

  A master named Iyjiia, who was the chief of Aakva’s servants, leaped to its feet. “Uhe, this is a beast standing before the masters, not a servant of Aakva!” Iyjiia faced the other masters and filled its image with voice, for Iyjiia was thin and small in stature.

  “The law is clear. The Mavedah is forbidden to enter the domain of the Irrvedah, just as the Irrvedah is forbidden to enter the Madah. It is tabu even for us to ask the Irrvedah for food.”

  Iyjiia faced Uhe and pointed. “Even to wish this is tabu!”

  Most of the masters nodded and muttered their agreement. It was a painful law to obey, but its wisdom was understood by all. To violate that law would again bring the wars to Sindie. This was the promise of Aakva, and the wars were too horrible to contemplate.

  Uhe held out its arms and faced the night sky. “But I, Uhe, invoke a new vision from Aakva.” The masters, and those at the other fires, muttered in astonishment and doubt at Uhe’s words. “Its old law,” continued the servant, “was for a time and a place. Aakva speaks to me that the time is changed. Aakva speaks to us all that the place is changed. It is time for a new law.”

  Iyjiia stood silent, for there was danger in disputing a claim to a vision. If the claim of the young Uhe were false, Uhe would suffer for it. But Iyjiia would pay the same price if it disputed a vision that turned out to be true law. Iyjiia also saw that many members of the tribe had gathered around the ring of masters. Whether the law be true or not, if it promised food it might find support among that gathering crowd of armed hunters.

  Iyjiia returned to its place in the ring of masters and said to Uhe, “Tell us your vision.”

  As was the custom, Uhe unfastened its covering of skins, let them fall from its frame, and stood naked before them all to show the truth of its words.

  “Aakva speaks to me now,” said the servant. “It speaks of lush mountains to the east, where fat darghat and suda kneel to drink at the cool waters; where the trees are heavy with sweet fruits; the fields crowded with kadda melon and the white grain.

  “Every evening Aakva’s fiery fingers point beyond the Akkujah Mountains as a sign. They show me the Diruvedah and the Kuvedah, their bellies bloated with food, their grasslands crowded with game that leaps upon their spears; their children tall and laughing.

  “Every morning Aakva points west of the mountains, to this land of famine, and the God of the Day Light says to me, `Uhe, this is my sign that the Mavedah must leave this place. The masters of the Mavedah must go to their clans, tell them of Aakva’s new Law of War, and have them gather at the foot of the Akkujah Mountains where the cliffs of Akkujah fall to the Yellow Sea. From there the God of the Day Light will lead the Mavedah across the mountains, through the land of the Irrvedah, to the Dirudah. And the Mavedah will defeat the Diruvedah and will drive all those who will not submit from the Great Cut and the southern Akkujah into the northern mountains.”

  Uhe paused, its arms outstretched. Its voice became low and grave as it continued. “The tribes beyond the Akkujah will try to join against us, but too fast will we attack. With the blood command of Aakva at our backs, we will strike through the mountains and across the plains, brushing them all aside. And then we will flood the lands with our victories!

  “The Mavedah will rule all!”

  Uhe lowered its arms, then stooped and retrieved its coverings. With its skins replaced, Uhe faced Iyjiia “And that is what the God of the Day Light says to me.”

  Bantumeh studied Uhe. “Wars? Are we to believe that the God of the Day Light inflicts this ancient punishment upon us? What have we done?”

  Uhe bowed. “Bantumeh, you are kind and wise. But you are too kind to meet this need of the Mavedah. It matters not what we have done. Following the old law will see the end of the Mavedah. Aakva’s new Law of War will see us, our children, and the Mavedah live.”

  Uhe looked around at the faces of the hunters crowded about the masters’ fire and said, “I see there to be things worse than war. I see our once-proud hunters whimpering and grubbing in the dirt; I see the Mavedah eating now things too low to rank with waste; I see the Mavedah eating now things too precious and sacred to be food. And I see from this the end of the Mavedah.”

  Uhe faced the ruler of the Mavedah. “Bantumeh, there are things worse than war.”

  Iyjiia stood and waved its hands back and forth. “You cannot know this, Uhe. The oldest of us has never seen war. And this is only because we all obey Aakva’s laws.”

  Uhe faced Iyjiia “A tribe does not fight itself, Iyjiia Mavedah does not fight Mavedah. I see a new tribe coming to Sindie. It will be made of every tribe, all of whom are Sindie. Tribe and world will be one. Once there is nothing but Sindie on this world, there can be no war. Thus we will have both peace and plenty. Iyjiia, do you dispute my vision?”

  The hunters crowded more closely around the ring of masters, every gaze fixed on the chief of Aakva’s servants. The tips of the hunters’ spears glinted in the firelight. The night was still, save for the relentless press of the death drums.

  A chief servant of Aakva had a privileged position. Food for its belly, skins for its back, a privileged place in the master’s ring, and shelter of stretched skins to protect against sun and cold. All this was provided by the tribe in exchange for the servant’s studies and visions. To dispute Uhe’s vision would mean ordeal by stoning or fire. And there was always the possibility that Uhe spoke truly. Iyjiia liked its position. Iyjiia was old. “I do not dispute your vision, Uhe.”

  The roar of approval from the gathered hunters was cut short as Bantumeh stood and shouted, “I dispute your vision, Uhe!”

  Bantumeh turned toward Iyjiia “May Aakva clean its waste with your cowardly tongue!” The ruler of the Mavedah faced Uhe. “I would see which of us Aakva favors with the stones!”

  The challenge to ordeal was ended by the hiss of a hunter’s spear. The pointed shaft entered Bantumeh’s chest, and Bantumeh looked at it as though surprised. Up at the hunters went Bantumeh’s gaze. “One has chosen for all,” it said, then Bantumeh fell and was still.

  Those who surrounded Bantumeh’s still body felt the breath of Aakva’s tabu against murder upon their necks. But no one looked to see who was missing its spear. And no one pulled the spear from Bantumeh’s body to see whose mark the spear carried.

  As the food preparers closed on Bantumeh’s body, Uhe pulled the spear from it and held the shaft over its head as it faced around the circle. “See you all that Aakva has spoken.” And then Uhe threw the spear into the fire. If there was indeed a mortal’s sign upon the spear’s shaft, it went black before their eyes. And it was said that the shaft carried Aakva’s own sign.

  One hunter began the cheer, and then all the hunters cheered until their sound pushed the death drums from the night sky. All swore their obedience to Uhe and Aakva’s new Law of War. The masters left the fire to convey Aakv
a’s new law to their clans, and the hunters left to begin their preparations for the fighting to come.

  As the beat of the death drums again filled the night air, the food preparers brought Bantumeh’s stripped and split bones and placed them in the flames of the masters’ fire. Uhe was left alone at the fire, save for a hunter named Conseh who squatted next to the flames. Conseh’s hands were clasped because it carried no spear. The hunter’s face betrayed no feelings.

  “Uhe, I have a question.”

  “Ask, Conseh.”

  “When Aakva talks to you, Uhe, do you hear it through your head, your womb, or your belly?”

  Uhe studied the hunter. It seemed to the servant that Aakva’s tabus had taken ghostly forms and were dancing above the hunter’s head.

  “Conseh, you are impertinent.”

  The hunter stood and the images vanished. “My peace demands an answer, Uhe. Aakva’s new law speaks to most of us through the womb and belly.”

  “Do you dispute the new law, Conseh?”

  The hunter waved its hands at the servant of Aakva. “I would not dispute you, for the God of the Day Light’s new law speaks to us all, and with a voice that cannot be stilled.” Conseh looked at the masters’ fire where the spear was all but consumed among Bantumeh’s blackening bones. “But it is a law that any one of us could have made.”

  The servant of Aakva looked toward the fire. The shape of the murderer’s spear was indistinguishable from the fire’s sticks. “I have no answer for you, Conseh.”

  Conseh looked toward the backs of its fellow hunters as they moved into the night to prepare for war. “It is my wonder what the hunters will do, Uhe, once Aakva stops speaking to their wombs and bellies and begins again to speak to their heads.”

  The hunter left the fire. And to Uhe the hunter left both a question and a truth.

  The call of the Law of War went over the Madah. On the beginning of the first day, Uhe greeted the first light prone over the ashes of the masters’ fire. Iyjiia came upon Uhe and heard the new ruler of the masters of the Mavedah begging the bones of Bantumeh for forgiveness. The chief of Aakva’s servants said to Uhe:

  “Why do you ask this of Bantumeh? We all saw the spear that killed Bantumeh, and that your hand was not on it.”

  Uhe pushed itself up slowly from the ashes. When it was to its knees, it faced the first glow of the God of the Day Light coming from behind the back of the distant Akkujah.

  “Iyjiia, why are you not bringing the Law of War to your people?”

  “I have already done so. My people now move to the southern Akkujah. I have returned as is my place as one of your masters. Why do you ask Bantumeh’s forgiveness?”

  Uhe looked down at the ashes. “My hand was upon that spear, Iyjiia, as was yours.”

  Iyjiia’s face grew dark with anger. “My hand bears no such stain! Nor does yours. Has the hunger taken your mind?”

  Uhe stood. “Go back to your people, Iyjiia. To enforce the Law of War I need better than the masters of the Mavedah. I will make my own masters, and they will be masters of war.”

  “And, Uhe, why may I not be one of your masters of war?”

  The light of Aakva crossed the crest of the Akkujah and touched the eyes of Uhe.

  “Iyjiia, my warmasters must have the strength of youth, the wisdom of the old hunter, courage beyond self, and eyes that can see only truth.

  “You are old and weak, Iyjiia. You have never run the hunt. You have no courage beyond your own skin, and your eyes see only what they choose to see.”

  With that, Uhe walked from the ashes of Bantumeh’s fire toward the light of Aakva.

  At the beginning of the ninth day, half of the clans of the Mavedah were gathered near the foothills of the southern Akkujah, near the Yellow Sea. Camps were made, and as they waited for the rest of the clans, the hunters went into the sea but could take no food from the poisonous waters. Those who entered the waters sickened and died.

  The Mavedah continued to eat the dead and beat the drums of death.

  And Uhe called to its tent the hunter Conseh, saying to it: “Conseh, you will be my first warmaster.”

  Conseh’s eyes were sunken and dark with thought, but they narrowed at Uhe’s words. “And why would you have me as your warmaster?”

  “You are a respected hunter. You understand the difference between killing game and killing Sindie. You know something of the cost of our enterprise. I believe you will see that we get full value, Conseh.”

  “Uhe, you speak of our enterprise. Is not the Law of War the invention of Aakva?”

  Uhe made no response to Conseh’s words, and the hunter continued. “You would use grief and guilt to serve your ends. Aakva’s new law is a strange one for a god of honor, peace, and justice.”

  “I serve the Mavedah. Conseh, I will use what is necessary to save the Mavedah. The old peace and tabus of Aakva stand in the way of that salvation. Now I shall make a bargain with you.”

  “What is your bargain, Uhe?”

  “Keep your sarcasms regarding my service to Aakva to yourself. In exchange I will forget whose sign it was I saw on the spearshaft in Bantumeh’s chest.”

  Conseh’s skin paled as the hunter reached to its stone knife and whispered, “I could buy your silence at a lower price, Uhe.”

  “If you murder me, Conseh, your first murder would have been for nothing.” Uhe turned from the hunter and faced the tent’s wall where a map of the southern Akkujah had been drawn.

  “Conseh, we must enter these mountains, cross them, and strike the Irrvedah with more force than they can understand. They are not hunters, but they think of themselves as fighters protected by Aakva. There we will obtain food and make a place for our children for when we strike at the Diruvedah.”

  “The Diruvedah are skilled hunters,” cautioned Conseh.

  “Yes, but hunters are not warriors. So we must meet them with both form and intention that they cannot comprehend until it is too late for an effective response. We must meet them as warriors.”

  Uhe moved to another portion of the tent wall where was drawn blocks made of tiny circles. Uhe pointed at the drawing. “You will search among the hunters and bring for my approval five more. The six of you will become my masters of war. Each warmaster will then find six hunters who will be undermasters. They must choose only those that they know to be strong, obedient, and dependable. In each warmaster’s group, the undermasters will in turn search among the hunters and find six more hunters that they know to be trustworthy.”

  Uhe swept its hand down the length of the drawing. “And so the whole of the Mavedah will be organized.”

  Conseh studied the drawing. “Three of the best hunters I know are not from our clan,” said Uhe’s first warmaster. “The hunters they most admire come from clans other than their own.” Conseh looked at Uhe. “This will mix the clans of the Mavedah. It will take away the power of the masters. The Mavedah will be one people.”

  “Yes. It is necessary. And if it is also necessary, I will deal with the masters.”

  “Uhe, what of the children, and who will gather the food?”

  Uhe pointed at the drawing. “The first two of each six will be the swiftest of the hunters. They will lead the fight. The first will attack, and then rest upon its victory while the second runs forward to continue the attack. While the second rests upon its victory, the first rushes forward and attacks, repeating as before.

  “The next two will be less swift, but they must be strong and durable. It is they who will first hold the land taken by the first two. They will protect the backs of the attackers. And they will be there to move up to support the first two groups should the enemy resistance be unusually strong.

  “The fifth and sixth will follow, and they will be composed of our poorest hunters, the tent-makers, the ones who craft our weapons, the gatherers and transporters of food, the healers, the wounded, our old, our servants of Aakva, and all of our children.”

  Conseh studied the drawing until it
was fixed in its head. Then the hunter turned to the opening of Uhe’s tent to leave. Conseh paused, however, and turned back and looked at the drawing.

  “Uhe, you have set out to conquer vast lands and mighty tribes. This fight will take years.”

  “Yes, Conseh.”

  “And the fighters will be gone from their children for long periods—those who survive. How will the child know its parent?”

  “The servants of Aakva will tell the child of its parent, and of the parent’s parent. And the servants will have the child memorize and recite these things as Aakva’s new rite of adulthood. The child will know its parent’s and its ancestor’s deeds before it may pick up its weapon and strive to add to those deeds.”

  Conseh looked at its ruler as though Uhe was more than a Sindie. “You have thought long upon this. Does Aakva truly speak to you?”

  Uhe looked to the ground and clasped its hands behind its back. “It is what you will say to those who ask.”

  Conseh again turned to the opening of the tent. “Uhe, when will this burden be lifted from us?”

  Uhe’s gaze rose and its eyes studied the drawing of the southern Akkujah. “Only when the Mavedah can move at will across Sindie, following the game to where the game chooses to go; then our burden will end.”

  “We are to be the tribe that lives in the land of war,” said Conseh. “We will be Denvedah. Uhe, you are saying that our task is done only when there is no more world to conquer.”

  “Yes, Conseh. Then we may rest. Go now and choose my warmasters. We attack in thirty days.”

  As the days passed, and the death drums continued, the hunters of the Madah took on the war order designed by Uhe. Since their place was no longer the Madah, the hunters called their place “of war,” and they became the Denvedah.

  In that time, Conseh made masters of war: Kessu, Birula, Yaga, and Daes. Kessu and Birula were both chiefs of their clan’s hunts, Yaga was both hunter and mountain guide from the northern Madah. Daes was both master of its clan, a servant of Aakva, and learned in healing.

  Daes would master the Sixth Denve, for the Sixth would have the children, aged, and wounded.