“I would kill her myself before I would leave her to you.”
Impasse.
Alanna fought to remain conscious, strained to hear past the roaring in her ears.
“Release her,” said Diut. “And my people will not harm you.”
“And you?”
“We fight. Defeat me, and you go free. I command it now. If you kill me, my people are to let you go.”
“Fight a Hao!”
“Did you not tell your people that I was no more than a man?”
“A man with two eyes!”
“And one arm.”
The words shocked Alanna to full consciousness. His arm? If only she could lower her head to see him.
“Broken,” commented Natahk. “But it will heal—if you live. It is no payment for an eye. I must see that you are better paid!”
Without warning, Alanna felt herself literally thrown forward. She stumbled a few steps blindly, somehow managing to keep her feet until someone caught her. She knew it was Diut when he passed her quickly to someone else.
“You shame my teaching,” she heard him mutter. “How could you have missed his other eye?”
She wondered herself. She willed her legs to support her and stood away from whoever held her. Not until then did she realize that it was Jules. The moment he saw that she was able to stand alone, he released her.
She looked around for Diut and saw him in the midst of a wide ring of Tehkohn. Just as she focused on him, he blocked a blow with his left arm, then dodged sharply backward away from a quick second blow that he could not block. His right arm, Natahk’s right eye. The two circled each other warily. They seemed to spar as though in a friendly mock duel. Diut was limping again, worse this time, and he looked as though handfuls of his fur had been torn out here and there. Natahk looked unhurt except for the eye. But the eye was important. Aside from the distracting pain, the agony, that it had to be giving, it made him nervous and overcautious. And it made him highly protective of the other eye. He could not take proper advantage of Diut’s disability while he was protecting his eye from Diut’s potentially deadly jabs.
Diut kicked sharply, using his feet where he could not use his arm. They danced, every now and then striking a blow that would have killed anyone else. It looked deceptively simple. Once Natahk went down, but was on his feet again before the clearly weary Diut could use the advantage.
Then Diut fell, knocked down by £ blow he could neither dodge nor block. Natahk tried to kick him in the face or throat, but Diut caught his foot one-handed, twisted it, threw him off balance. Natahk fell, got up limping as Diut rose.
Favoring Natahk’s blind side, Diut strove to end the fighting. He drove the Garkohn back, scattering a group of onlookers.
Abruptly, Natahk stopped running, launched himself at Diut as though at an animal. Natahk’s size alone would have made such a move enough to unnerve a lesser opponent. The two fell together, Natahk shifting his weight deliberately so that Diut could not help falling on his injured arm.
For the first time, Alanna heard Diut scream in pain. For a moment he lay still, Natahk atop him. Natahk seized him by the fur of his head, pulled the head back to expose the throat. Unexpectedly, Diut rolled, made a sound like an animal snarl as he unseated Natahk. He struck the Garkohn a heavy blow to the side of the head—the blind side. The blow was hard enough to stun anyone else, but it only slowed Natahk down for a moment. The moment was enough.
Diut stood up. Natahk had just managed to rise to his knees. He looked up at Diut just as Diut drove a hoof-hard foot into his throat. Natahk flared luminescent yellow, collapsed, and slowly faded to the mottled death yellow. The last fighting of the battle was over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alanna
My child, a thickly furred, deep green little girl was an instant celebrity. Curious Tehkohn came visiting as soon as Diut would let them, came looking to see how blue the child was and how different. Her dark coloring pleased them, but they said it was shaded strangely. They said the shape of her eyes was strange. They thought her hands and feet were wrong somehow. Then they looked at my hands and feet and saw where the “wrongness” would probably lead. They visited often, and I grew weary of them, weary of their observations. Diut enjoyed their attention but I didn’t.
Sometimes I took refuge with Tahneh, taking the child with me—Tien, Diut had named her. I wanted to keep her with me as much as I could before I had to give her up to her nonfighter second-parents. She would become their charge completely for the twenty-five-day separation period that would begin as soon as she had her welcoming ceremony. After the twenty-five days, I could see her when I wanted to, when I had time, but until she was older and less vulnerable, her home would be in the protected nonfighter section of the dwelling. That was something I tried not to think about. Diut did not mention it as the days passed, but finally, Tahneh reminded me.
I had escaped my “guests,” and gone to her apartment where I could sit comfortably against a wall and nurse Tien in peace.
“You are a fighting woman,” said Tahneh quietly. “You must stop that soon.” She meant the nursing. Female fighters had to be ready to fight again as soon after giving birth as possible. Not for the first time, I resented the restrictions of my high status. I wanted to care for my child myself.
Tahneh laid a hand on my arm. “If I had ever borne a child, I would want very much to care for it myself in my own way. I don’t envy you the separation, but it must come.”
“I know.”
“He has been holding off the ceremony so that you could have more time with the child.”
I looked at her, startled. “That I didn’t know.”
The old woman whitened. “I thought not. It is a kind of gift that he’s giving you. I am not certain that it is kind. The longer you wait, the harder the separation will be.”
“Are you saying I should tell him that I’m ready?”
Tahneh flared yellow. “Not unless you are. I wanted only to tell you what I thought you might not realize.”
I looked down into Tien’s face. “I wish I was still working as an artisan.”
“If you were, you would not have had his child.”
“So. Things never fit together as they should. I will tell him.”
“You are certain that you trust Gehnahteh and Choh? You will be at ease leaving the child with them?”
“I trust them. We had our differences when I was with them, but they were kind. Certainly kinder than they had to be to a foreigner.”
“I spoke with them.” Tahneh’s body went white for several seconds. “They were overwhelmed. It was the old story proven true.”
“Old story?”
She brightened more and settled back to tell it as I had known she would. “In the time of the empire a woman, a judge, was charged by her husband with consorting with a nonfighter, an artisan. She insisted that she was innocent, but her husband had more blue and he was very jealous. The artisan, a member of his trade family, was unusually large and possessed some beauty. The husband beat a false confession out of him, then killed him. The council of judges caused the wife to be painted red all over, and given to an artisan family so that she could serve them and get her fill of such people. The artisans treated her kindly—more kindly than they were commanded to treat her. In time, the woman realized that she was pregnant. Everyone assumed that she carried the artisan’s child and plans were made to kill it when it was born. No one but the two artisans showed her any color but yellow. Her husband renounced her completely and began a liaison with another woman. Then the woman gave birth to a child too blue for anyone to dare to kill. And as the child grew, it became, clearly, a young Hao. The woman was vindicated beyond any doubt and she showed yellow to her husband and found a new man. Her child, she gave to the two artisans who had been kind. That child grew to be one of our greatest leaders.”
I smiled. “This might not be quite like the story then. I doubt that Tien is Hao.”
“She ma
y be. But even if she is not, her coloring will place her high—she was born so dark! And she is Diut’s daughter. There will be honor for Gehnahteh and Choh. And much honor for you, Alanna. The people pester you now, but also, they honor you. If I had borne a child, they would behave this way. Both you and Tien are of interest to everyone—more than interest. Tien might someday be their leader.”
The ceremony was held in a huge gathering room beneath the living quarters. The only people absent were those unlucky enough to be on watch in the mountains outside. Tahneh presided, standing tall and regal. The people fanned out in a wide half circle around her, fighter and nonfighter together, ignoring clan differences for once since no specific clan was welcoming this first child. Everyone welcomed Diut’s child.
I was wearing my usual pants and short tunic made from soft leather and a wide blue-green fur cloak. But all my clothing was new, made for me since Tien’s birth. Diut had given it to me just as I was about to dress for the ceremony. He still gave gifts, but he had been very subdued about giving these. The separation was not going to be easy for him either.
In my new clothing, I knelt beside Diut on a small pallet of fur on the stone floor. Tien slept peacefully in my arms. To my right on a similar pallet knelt Gehnahteh and Choh. Behind them were all the people. Before them stood Tahneh.
“We meet to welcome a first child,” said Tahneh, her strange quiet voice reaching out to the corners of the room.
“May she be the first of many,” replied the people in unison.
“We meet to welcome a fighter.”
“May the young fighter grow strong and increase the strength of the tribe.”
“We meet to welcome a woman-child.”
“May the woman-child be fertile, and in her turn, help to replenish the tribe.”
Tahneh lowered the pitch of her voice slightly. “We are an ancient people. The Kohn empire was the handiwork of our ancestors.”
“We are a new people,” said the many voices. “In each child we welcome, we are reborn.”
“There is a color for welcoming,” said Tahneh.
The people blazed luminescent white.
“And there is a color for life.”
The people glowed a swiftly uniform green—the green of healthy mountain vegetation washed clean by rain.
“And there is a color for strength and honor.”
The people ceased to radiate light at all. They allowed their coloring to settle to normal. Now only Diut and Tahneh blazed forth in brilliant blues.
“We welcome the fighter child,” said Tahneh. “May she have long life, strength, and honor.” Tahneh looked at the two artisans. “May she have the care she will need while she is young.”
Gehnahteh and Choh stood up. Diut and I also stood.
“A fighter child needs two mothers and two fathers to keep her safe,” said Tahneh. “What man fathered this child?”
“I am her father,” said Diut.
“And what woman gave birth?”
“I,” I said simply.
“So. But you are fighters. And you must be free to defend the tribe. Are there others whom you would trust to care for your child?”
Diut answered for both of us. “We ask the artisans Gehnahteh and Choh to be parents to our child when we cannot.”
Tahneh looked at the artisans. “Will you accept the fighter child?”
“She will be as one born to us,” said Gehnahteh softly.
I stepped forward and placed Tien in Gehnahteh’s arms.
Tahneh whitened. “The tribe is one greater now. We will feast and rejoice!”
Dawn.
The Verrick cabin had burned to the ground and was still smoldering. The storehouse had burned even more quickly, but its fire had spread. It was still spreading. The storehouse that had served as a prison for the Tehkohn captives had burned. Now several of the Missionaries’ cabins were on fire. The settlement was full of smoke and ash. But only the buildings were burning. The people had gotten out with their possessions. That was all that mattered.
The Garkohn were scattered, painted, confused, beaten. Most of them had already fled back to their own dwelling. Tehkohn fighters hunted those who were still at the settlement. They found injured ones who had tried to hide, and snapped their necks perfunctorily. The Missionaries first stared, then turned away. It was a kind of killing that they pretended to be shocked at—though unlike Jules and Neila, many of them had advocated using it against wild humans on Earth. Alanna remembered if they did not.
Alanna stood with Diut, watching them prepare to leave. Near her, an old woman—Beatrice Stamp, her name was—and her two recently orphaned young grandchildren struggled to load a heavy sack onto a handcart. Between them, they could drag the sack well enough, but they could not lift it. Since no one else had noticed their trouble, Alanna went to help. Burdened by neither too many years nor too few, Alanna lifted the sack and threw it into the cart. The old woman looked at Diut, then looked at Alanna as though she did not know whether to thank her or not.
Alanna went back to Diut’s side staring at his grotesquely swollen arm. “You need care.” She spoke in English. “When will you let a healer help you?” She had seen two judges who were healers at the settlement.
“When your Missionaries are on their way.” He took a ragged breath and looked down at his misshapen arm. “Soon.”
Alanna saw that the first Missionaries to be fully ready to leave were lining up at the gate with their handcarts. They looked like a miniature wagon train out of pre-Clayark Earth history. But this was a train that used people as draft animals and handcarts as covered wagons.
Jules moved along the lengthening line, checking the carts and the people, seeing that everyone had packed the essentials, seeing that the very young and the very old had help. Alanna saw him order a stocky adolescent boy to help Beatrice Stamp and her grandchildren pull their cart.
“I spoke to him while you were helping your mother to load her cart,” said Diut. “Some of my fighters will guide him across the mountains and help him settle in the next valley.”
“If only the Garkohn will leave them alone there.”
“The Garkohn will leave everyone alone for a while. They have gaping wounds to tend. Two leaders dead…” He broke off suddenly. “Why did you kill Gehl?”
“She was trying to burn my parents’ house—with all of us inside.” No need to tell him why. That was over.
“I am glad she is dead. She was as ambitious as Natahk. Wehhano will be easier to deal with. And he will keep to the valley more.” He changed the subject abruptly. “Your father asked me to send you with the Missionaries.”
She looked at him silently.
“He said you belonged with your own people. He said I had no hold on you now that Tien was dead.”
Alanna sighed and shook her head.
“I asked him if it was the Missionary way for a husband to send his wife away because their child had died.”
“He has believed one way all his life,” said Alanna. “It is hard for him to change.”
“He is not trying to change. He is trying to find reasons not to change. Reasons that prove him right.” There was harshness in his voice. It was not the first time Jules’s stubbornness had angered him.
“He will be gone soon.”
“So. And you must speak with him before he leaves.”
“I know.” Family. Among the Kohn, a kinsman was a kinsman no matter how foolishly he behaved. And Alanna found herself agreeing with them. Jules had chosen to make her his daughter, and after a time, she had chosen to accept him as her father. But she could not choose now to end the relationship. She would probably not see him again, but she would still think of him as her father, still love him. Diut was right. She had to try once more. But she did not move. She stood watching Jules, wanting to go to him, but not wanting to feel the weight of his condemning stare again. What kind of man was he that he could condemn her for saving both his life and the Mission, his reason for li
ving? Then she saw Nathan James approaching. She made a sound of disgust. Jules’s intolerance was hard enough to take. Jules she loved. She had never loved Nathan.
Nathan came up, stared at Diut’s arm for a moment, then spoke in English. “I’d heard that you were hurt. I’m a healer, Tehkohn Hao. I can help you if you like.”
Alanna was startled, but Diut did not know enough about Nathan to be startled. He was only curious.
“Why do you want to help?”
Nathan shrugged. “You have helped us. I admit that I didn’t trust you at first, but you helped us.”
“And you wish to repay?”
“Yes.”
“There is no need. But it is good of you to offer.” He was trying to say “thanks,” Alanna realized. That was not something normally said aloud among the Kohn, and he was not accustomed to saying it even in English. Under other circumstances, he might have whitened to show gratitude, but now he was having enough trouble maintaining a steady blue in spite of his pain.
“What will you do then?” asked Nathan.
“When you have all gone, my healers will care for me.”
“They…know how to do such things?”
“We are a mountain people, healer. We learned long ago to set and bind broken bones.”
Nathan nodded doubtfully, looked once more at Diut’s arm, then turned and walked away. He had been oddly careful not to look at Alanna.
“Go to your parents,” said Diut. “Missionaries have already begun to leave. Go. Make your peace.”
She nodded, but went first to Neila. The woman was standing alone staring at the smoldering ruins of her cabin. She spoke as Alanna came up beside her.
“It didn’t take long to burn, did it?”
“No,” said Alanna. “But then, a lot of solid-looking things can be destroyed quickly.”
Neila glanced toward Jules. “Have you tried again?”
“I was about to. I will.”
“Did Nathan offer to fix Diut’s arm?”
“Yes. But I don’t know why.”
“He asked me about Diut…and you. I told him. I didn’t think it made any difference now.”
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