Revolt on War World c-3

by Jerry Pournelle

  As the wagon creaked patiently through the entrance to the valley, Kyle looked up ahead in surprise. Both the right and left slopes were settled, though only a few structures were actually visible on each side. The flat but fairly narrow, open valley floor spread in front of them also had one settlement he could see; a distant spot might represent another one. Kyle estimated the valley was no more than five or six kilometers across at the widest. He couldn't tell how long it was from here.

  "These aren't nomads," said Kyle. "Look at this place. All those dwellings are permanent."

  Tim took in the tableau at a glance. "That's right. . but look at the differences. The western slope is built up with some wooden huts around that stone tower-hell, it looks like a little castle!"

  "And the other slope is a cluster of little wooden houses nestled in the trees," said Kyle. "I see what you mean. But there's just as much stone and forest on both sides. What do you make of it?"

  "You're the public policy expert," said Tim. "You tell me."

  Kyle looked straight across the valley. An hour's travel ahead, he could see a small walled compound. The wall appeared to be made of stone with a smooth mortar facing. Inside, tiled roofs were visible on the buildings. A windmill stood over it.

  "Well?" Tim prodded.

  "Three notably different styles of architecture based on only one set of natural resources," Kyle said slowly. "I'd say they represent three distinct cultural backgrounds. From the distance between them, and the defensible nature of their architecture, they don't share a political system. On the other hand, they must have a workable coexistence, because the valley dwellings were made in part with stone from the slopes." He could also see livestock in all three areas, but they appeared to be of the same types. Both the valley and the slopes were cultivated in spots.

  "What did the hillside people get from the valley?" Tim asked.

  "I can't tell. Maybe free passage and the right to share-crop some fields in the valley, something like that."

  "Which one should we approach?"

  "Let's go straight through the valley," Kyle decided. "This road goes to that place on the valley floor."

  "Does that mean they're the most important?"

  "Maybe." Kyle grinned. "Maybe they just built the road."

  In only a few more minutes, a flashing light caught Kyle's eye. It was reflecting the sunlight and came from the stone tower on the western slope. "We should have company soon," said Kyle.

  He was surprised, though, to see that the five riders who came into view departed from the valley compound. They started at a leisurely pace on two horses and three muskylopes. As the wagon plodded toward them, however, and the gap shrank to a kilometer or so, the riders spurred to a canter.

  Tim prepared their own weapons. Kyle saw that the riders had only two rifles among them. The others carried lances and wore machete-like swords in their belts.

  As the riders finally came close, Kyle drew the wagon to a halt and braced the stock of his rifle casually on the seat, the barrel aimed up. So did Tim. They had this down to a routine now.

  To Kyle's surprise, all the riders who reined to a halt in front of them were of the same racial stock as much of Hawaii, including themselves-Cantonese, judging by their fairly short, stocky frames, round faces, and somewhat broad noses. The northern Chinese tended to be taller than this and their skintone was too light to have originated in southeast Asia. They lacked the facial hair of Japanese men.

  The first rider, a young man near their age, tried two languages before saying, "Hail, strangers," in accented English.

  "Good day," Tim said carefully.

  "You have business in this valley?"

  "We seek passage to the northern steppe," said Tim. "No more."

  All the riders bristled at this.

  "What is your business on the steppe?" the chief rider demanded. "You bring them weapons?"

  "No," Kyle said quickly. "We seek new land to live in, that's all. Peaceful passage."

  The other four riders were now walking their mounts down each side of the wagon, surrounding it.

  "I am Dafu Lei," said the chief rider. "You shall be guests in our house. Follow me." He backed his horse out of the way, not taking his eyes off them.

  Kyle and Tim could only choose between complying or shooting, and the latter meant starting a fight with four enemies at their backs. On the other hand, no request had been made for their weapons. That was a good sign.

  Kyle shook the reins and started the wagon forward.

  Dafu Lei brought his mount into step.

  "What is the name of this valley?" Kyle asked.

  "This is the Guanggo Valley," said Dafu. "We are from the House of Lei, deportees from the planet Xanadu. The House of Horn is also from Xanadu. We are the only two houses in the valley."

  "Who lives in the stone tower on the mountainside?"

  "That is Castle MacLeod, home of Clan MacLeod. The Clans MacLeod, Munro, and Robertson live on that slope. They are from Covenant, and call their ridge the Highlands."

  "What about the other side?" Kyle asked, nodding toward the wooden houses barely visible in the forest opposite.

  "The Mozark Hills, they call them. The Coons, Gann, and McKay Clans live there. Deportees from Earth itself." Dafu's manner seemed to warm slightly. "We are called the Triad Clans, for the three backgrounds we have."

  Tim was eyeing Dafu's mount. It was a small, sturdy brown horse. Kyle couldn't tell much else about it.

  "Part Arabian, is it?" Tim asked.

  "Half," said Dafu, proudly. "Half quarterhorse. She is very strong and healthy."

  "Looks it," Tim said quietly.

  The House of Lei was, as Kyle had seen from a distance, a small compound of several buildings with a courtyard surrounded by a high wall, all of stone. As they neared it, he was able to see that the family herded muskylopes and horses and raised some hardy, high-altitude crops.

  The patriarch of the Lei Clan came out to meet them. His name was Lungho Lei. He was about fifty years old and introduced himself, in a reserved but courteous manner, as the original deportee who had begun this spread. Now he had four grown sons, of whom Dafu was the eldest, living here with their families, and several daughters. Also, some other Xanadu families of different surnames lived there under his protection, all working the land and tending the small herds.

  Kyle and Tim were shown to a small unheated room in the main house and brought water for washing. The room had one window, barred with a decorative ceramic dragon sculpture fitted into the opening. There was no glass, only an inside wooden shutter. An electric lightbulb lit the room, powered by the windmill and an old generator elsewhere on the grounds.

  They had been told to leave their weapons in the wagon, but had not exactly been forced to surrender them. Both brothers were more uncomfortable here than they had been in the yurts and tents of their other hosts. Their wagon was farther away from them and when the front gate was closed for the night, it was locked in and so were they. They were being watched closely.

  That night, Lungho Lei hosted them at dinner in the company of his sons and the heads of the other families. From their manner and their dress, Kyle saw that this was a rather formal occasion, taking place in a modest hall that was the largest room in the compound. Guests were almost certainly rare here; those of Cantonese descent probably unheard of.

  Lungho Lei's white hair was short, but he had indulged in a three-pointed white beard. He stroked it casually as he asked the brothers stories of their passage. They answered with small anecdotes, revealing as little of themselves as they could. Other members of the House of Lei spoke quietly among themselves at times but did not address Kyle and Tim directly. When dinner arrived. it was simple, but good.

  Dinner was served by the grown and teenaged daughters of the community, but none of them were introduced. The young woman who served Kyle and Tim smiled at them shyly as she came and went. She was slender and pretty and Kyle found her looking at him several times
when he happened to look up.

  "What's your name?" he asked quietly.

  "Linwah," she whispered. "Are you really from Earth itself?"

  "Yes. From Hawaii."

  Her eyes widened, but she hurried away, looking around her guiltily.

  "So," said Lungho Lei, studying Kyle. "You have come north a very long way to reach us. You travel to the land of our enemies. Why?"

  Kyle tensed. His mind went blank for an answer. The wrong response might get them killed, or at least turned back on foot without their wagon and belongings.

  "We did not know they were enemies of yours," Tim said easily, landing on his feet once again. "To be honest, we seek only a safe place to settle."

  "Which tribe do you seek?"

  Tim shrugged, picking up a mushroom with his chopsticks. "We don't even know who the tribes are." He continued eating.

  "Mongols of the Merkit, Naiman, and Mangkhol tribes predominate," Lungho Lei said quietly. "We of the Triad Clans hold the northern pass of this valley against them, as my-and your-distant ancestors once did against theirs on old Earth." He smiled. "The irony amuses me. The danger, however, is real."

  "I hear," said Tim casually, "that a high, dry wind off the northern steppe has developed a high altitude desert nearby."

  "It is a poor land," said Lungho Lei, nodding affirmation. "They raid us and, when they are not in evidence, we of the Triad Clans sometimes raid each other. Our feuds come and go, but they are matters within Guanggo Valley. Weapons for the Mongols are another matter, one of the outside. So are the nomads who graze to the south of us-and those who pass through their land unharmed."

  "We have very few weapons," said Kyle.

  Lungho Lei nodded and caught the eye of someone in the back of the modest hall. Two young men who were not in the dinner party strode forward briskly, carrying Tim's mysterious black case together in a large two-handed basket. They set it down with great care on the table near Lungho Lei.

  As Kyle watched, they opened the case and turned it. The case was full of sealed vials of fluid and some other equipment he didn't recognize. Two small booklets were also in it, and some type of instruments in padded holders.

  "Forgive my inhospitality," said Lungho Lei. "I had your wagon searched because you told us you seek our enemies. These vials would be of great value to them."

  Kyle looked at Tim in alarm.

  "We have recognized their contents," said Lungho Lei. "What breeds do you have here?"

  Tim grinned and sat forward eagerly. "I have gametes and zygotes from the finest Mongol horses on the face of good ol' Earth. Also the instruments necessary to use them and instruction manuals. All I need are healthy mares as either surrogate mothers or else good breeding stock to be artificially inseminated. There are plenty of them here and only a tiny fraction has to work out to start a string of tough, durable horses that has been bred to northern steppes and deserts for centuries."

  "Such horses would make a man very wealthy in any valley," said Lungho Lei. He showed no outward sign of surprise. "In the land to the north of us, they could make a man into a king. This is why you seek the northern steppes."

  Horses, Kyle thought. Of course. That had been Tim's hobby back in their former life. On a wild planet like this, they were far more valuable than any currency.

  "Yes" said Tim, with a disarming grin. "That is true."

  "But you have grazing land in this valley, as well," said Kyle. "Is there a place for two more here?"

  Lungho Lei thought a moment and then returned to his dinner. While he ate in silence, no one else in the hall spoke. The two young men by the freezer case did not move.

  Finally the white-haired man looked up. "You will remain here as my guests while I think on this. In exchange for your horses, I believe a place can be found for you." Then he finished his dinner, turning the conversation to casual topics.

  Kyle kept an eye on Linwah for the rest of the dinner. She glanced over at him several times, but did not have another chance to speak. Kyle was flattered; for once, a woman had noticed him more than Tim.

  Kyle and Tim did not speak until they had returned to their room. As Kyle sat down on a bunk, quiet footsteps stopped outside their closed door. A bar slid gently into place, locking them in. He looked at Tim.

  "So close," Tim whispered. "The northern steppe is so close."

  "I like it here," said Kyle. "This is a settled community. And we fit in-that is, we look like we do. It would be a safe place to start life over."

  "We'd be followers," said Tim in a quiet but firm voice. "The best land in this valley is already claimed. Why wait twenty years for the old men to die off and then fight with their heirs for their inheritance? Out on the steppes with nomads, life is much more fluid. We can earn our way with barter and service at first, then strike out on our own. Any open grazing land belongs to those tough enough to take it."

  "I'm no rider, at least not like you are. You really like this idea of living on the steppes?"

  Tim grinned crookedly. "Don't you remember the old family history our grandfather told us about? How one of our ancestors in China did something for a Mongol emperor and was rewarded with marriage to one of his daughters?"

  "Yeah, so?" Kyle shook his head. "Oral history isn't worth much over what, seven or eight centuries? What about it?"

  "So that Mongol princess came from the line of Kublai Khan, and so back to Genghis Khan."

  Kyle smiled with more amusement than he felt. "After that many generations, the blood is pretty thin."

  "That doesn't matter. Look, you told me once that non-literate societies value oral traditions-they have to respect them and keep them and be honest with their spoken word because they have no other records. So I believe the story."

  "Yeah, that's right. So you believe it. But what of it?"

  "So will the Mongols on the steppe." Tim eyed him earnestly. "Follow me yet? The distant sons of the Kha-khan arrive from Earth with the finest seed of Mongol horses ever seen since the thirteenth century. We'll be welcomed like heirs to the throne."

  "I'm not so sure. Their current tribal leaders won't want to step aside. Even if you're right, they can just kill us and keep the freezer case."

  "Aahh." Tim brushed that aside with a wave. "I know better than to go busting in making demands. I'll handle the tribal politics when the time comes, armed with that freezer case. I even have those phrase books to help with their language. But right now we have to get out of here."

  "We can't," said Kyle. "At least, not until we've passed muster with them. They've locked us in."

  "Funny you should mention that," said Tim, grinning as he cocked his head. Soft footsteps were coming down the hall.

  The bar slid away and then Linwah slipped inside the room, carrying a bulging pack on a shoulder strap. In both hands, she lugged the heavy freezer case inside and gently set it down. She smiled self-consciously, looking at both of them.

  "Didn't you notice she liked you?" Tim said. "I saw you two talking, and I got her aside for a moment on our way out."

  "Hello, Kyle," she said quietly, in accented English.

  "Hi," said Kyle, suddenly realizing what Tim had in mind. "You mean we're escaping from here?"

  "She can't afford to get caught," said Tim. "She can take us to a small rear gate, but we'll be on foot-no wagon or mounts."

  "Why are you doing this?" Kyle asked her suspiciously.

  "I've never met anyone from Earth like you," she said earnestly. "That is, Cantonese from Earth. From Hawaii You must be very brave to come all this way alone. I want to help."

  "This is insane," said Kyle. "What is it, some adolescent infatuation? We can't let her get into trouble over us."

  "She's the old man's daughter," said Tim. "He'll yell at her and then forget it. And after we start our herd, we'll send them both a couple of horses to make amends."

  "Tim-"

  "Listen, Kyle," Tim said earnestly. "This isn't a BurReloc detention center or a Hawaii state correcti
onal center, either. No sentries, no guard towers, no sensors or lasers. It's just a house with a wall around it. Her family thinks we're locked in and they're going to sleep."

  "Everyone is asleep," Linwah confirmed. "Unless we are in a feud, we only have the animals to sound an alarm."

  Kyle didn't know what to say. He looked at Tim, then at Linwah. She looked away shyly. Deep down, he didn't want to go. She fascinated him, not the least by her daring. After a lifetime of following Tim's every whim, though, he simply could not summon an argument now.

  "Come on," said Tim. He stood up and bundled into his heavy outdoor clothing. Then he took the pack from Linwah, slinging it over his shoulder, and hefted the freezer case. "Linwah."

  Kyle was also slipping on his outer clothing. Then he hustled after them, last as usual.

  Linwah moved with quick, quiet steps, stopping frequently to listen. The floor of the narrow hallway was made of small stone and some type of fine mortar; the effect was similar to concrete, but rougher. Their gentle steps made no sound.

  A small door in the back of the building creaked slightly when she opened it, but no one stirred. They walked out across the grounds in the dim light of Cat's Eye. The livestock were quiet as she led them in a faster walk to a rear gate in the wall.

  Kyle couldn't help steal a glance at their wagon, and the two muskylopes hobbled near it.

  "I'm sorry," she said as she unhooked the gate. "The front gate squeaks badly. And the dogs would bark at the sound of hooves if you rode out. My family would be roused."

  Kyle looked at her, into her eyes. She was only a word away from going with them. In that moment, he felt he had never seen a woman more exciting.

  "This will be fine," said Tim. "Come on, Kyle. Even on foot, we'll reach the northern pass by morning."

  "No," Kyle said suddenly.

  "What?" Tim was half out the open doorway when he turned.

  "I'm staying."

  "Kyle!" Tim stared at him. "Are you crazy? This is no time to argue-"

  "I'm not arguing. I'm staying. You go. Now."

  "Didi-"

  A dog barked, then another. A horse whinnied. They had raised their voices too loud.