By the end of the morning, most of the Artemisians who lived in other areas were on the road back to their homes; Precious Wind and Xulai were using the far-talker to seek advice from Tingawa; Needly was brought in to describe the stone medicine plant to the Tingawan at the other end. Willum was laid in the bed of the wagon, the arrow gently cut off even with his skin in back, only enough protruding in front that it could be pulled from the wound when and if that seemed appropriate. Needly sat cross-legged beside him, her face ashen, her hand laid lightly upon his chest.
“Willum,” she whispered into the hovering void she could sense around him. It was a place of stillness. She doubted it had a location or reference to any known point upon the world she knew. Just now it was where Willum was and it was held around him. “I didn’t know what else to do, Willum. Don’t die, Willum. Just wait. Just wait. You don’t need to wake up and you don’t need to die. Time isn’t moving where you are, Willum. We’re going to figure something out. We really are . . .” and meanwhile the tears fell from her jaw onto her skirt, cupped between her knees, until it was as sodden and chilled as her spirit.
SUBSEQUENTLY THERE WAS A GOOD deal of talk: discussion among the Artemisians, loving words between the Griffins and Needly, mild argument between Abasio and Xulai, a subdued, sorrowful, and yet relieved exchange between Sun-wings and Dawn-song, even a few puzzled words from Kim. The discussions of possibilities ended with the decision to move the Griffins, mother and daughter, to a currently empty storage building that stood at one side of the plaza of the Wide Mountain Clan. Once they were there, Wide Mountain Mother’s closest associates could help the feeding and treating of the wounded mother; there the Griffin child would also be safe and well tended to. Those who had traveled from Saltgosh could park their wagons nearby, the horses would have pasture. Everyone would be a safer distance from Sybbis and her tame horrors, if they were tame. Once that move was made, everyone could take a deep breath and try to decide what should be done next.
Abasio, meantime, was busy explaining to representatives of the men’s groups what he had heard the huge hunter say. He had repeated it to himself, over and over; now he repeated it to them. “He said, ‘Nah. Li’l one’s no good anyhow. Ahgar said nobody wans li’l ones. Practice on her. Gotta kill ’er firs’, though, so she don’ bite . . .’ We were behind him, we heard him clearly. That’s exactly what he said.”
“The girl child had heard no previous reference to this person or thing the hunter called Ahgar?”
“She’s so upset about the boy that she can’t think straight. She says give her a little time, and she’ll think back at what they heard. When he said he would practice on the little one, she told him it was better not to practice when he’d been drinking. He’d ruin the hide. You do understand this was a pretense she and Willum had set up? To delay things, hoping somehow to either get away or be rescued . . .”
“And your own feelings about this hunter?”
Abasio said, “My feelings are irrelevant. I can take you there to see for yourselves! Wide Mountain Mother wants to jump to the plaza to check out the building before the Griffins are moved. Xulai will go with her. Before they do that, we can jump to the clearing where we found the children. Unless something has found the body edible, it’s probably still up there where we left it. Bear grappled with the creatures and ripped out his jaw and throat. He’s been trying to get rid of the taste of the thing ever since! I can take several of you there and back this afternoon. We can even bring the body back here with us, if that makes sense.”
There was agreement. Bear and Coyote would go with Abasio and a group of a dozen hunters. Precious Wind would go along to be sure all the right buttons were pushed. Several of the Artemisian women would also go, Arakny among them. Precious Wind hooked the ul xaolats together so that the same journey lists could be shared; then those making the journey assembled around Bear, Coyote, Precious Wind, and Abasio, all linked by touch of hand.
They went.
The Artemisians who had not before known of or experienced travel via ul xaolat stood in shocked silence for a moment, trying to orient themselves. They had been moved to the center of the open space, and Abasio pointed them up the hill where the great carcass lay as Bear had left it. Some men moved out to the edges of the clearing, fingering weapons, keeping watch. Bear and Coyote went to examine the carcass. Their previous journey had been precipitous; there had been no time for inspection. They were immediately joined by Precious Wind, Abasio, and Dark Wolf, one of the hunters.
“By all the gods of earth and water, wind and sky, he stinks!” the Artemisian hunter exclaimed. “And he’s almost as big as that one with the ganger queen. I have never encountered such a stink.”
“Ungh,” agreed Bear. “He tasted rotten, awful, too. Left a coat of something on my teeth. Been chewin’ leaves ever since; haven’t got ’em clean yet. Wasn’t like human.”
“When have you tasted humans?” asked Abasio.
“I’ve tasted you,” said Bear. “When we found you, I licked your leg and you jumped like a frog.”
The Artemisian took another analytical breath and made a face. “The body stinks like that one with the queen.”
“ ’S not just dirt,” said Bear. “Abasio says he smells like Ogre. It’s a different smell. Nothing else smells like that. You ever smell Ogre?”
Dark Wolf shook his head. “Never have. Hope I never will.”
Abasio said, “It’s definitely like Ogre smell; worse, maybe. The thing may be a human-Ogre half-breed. Maybe some Troll genetics in there.”
Coyote said, “A hybrid. That’s what the old man called me, the one who taught me words after I could speak.”
Dark Wolf turned to find Abasio behind him, pacing off the length of the carcass, which he and two others had pulled straight on the ground.
Abasio muttered, “I was talking about the created creatures not long ago with Xulai. We thought giants might be pure human genetics, with all the size controls turned off. I have a dreadful feeling that they don’t stop growing. They keep right on getting bigger as long as they can get food. Trolls were an animal-human genetic mix. My guess is human and either wild boar or some kind of big cat or bear or a thing from far away called a hyena. Bear says from the smell, he’s sure it’s wild boar. I’m almost positive that Ogres were the result of a breeding between giants and Troll females. This man isn’t as big as an Ogre, at least, not the Ogres I saw some years ago. They were maybe a third again as tall. But he’s a lot bigger than any man I’ve ever seen. I’m generally thought of as tall, and he’s half to two-thirds again my height.”
One of the hunters asked, “Is there any advantage to taking the body back with us?”
Abasio nodded. “Yes. The very great advantage of getting him away from here so the ones who made him or use him won’t know he’s dead. He knew someone or something. He came back drunk. He got the drink from someone. He talked to someone about a Griffin hide, someone named ‘Ah’g’r,’ or ‘a Gar.’ ” He made a face. “That’s as close as Needly can come to the sound. I think it’s a corruption of ‘Ogre.’ ”
Coyote said, “It could have been that, Abasio, but maybe it was more like ‘A Gar.’ Like you’d say ‘A hunter’ or ‘A trapper.’ ”
“More like a label than a name?” Abasio rubbed his head, which ached.
Precious Wind said, “Possibly! It is also perfectly possible it meant ‘Ogre.’ Xulai and I believe the creatures are at least partly Ogre. Which reminds me that I have unpleasant news for you, Abasio. We thought Sybbis had one of these creatures as a kind of guard or who knows what. She actually has at least twenty-four of them, some bigger than this one. Precious Wind thinks she has a breeding population of them. And Coyote is probably right. ‘Ogre’ or ‘a Gar’ might be the collective label for what they are.”
Arakny offered, “It makes sense, as much as anything does in this mess.
That’s what Sybbis calls her new . . . consort. She speaks of him as ‘uh Gar.’ ” She glanced at Precious Wind. “A Gar, of whom there are . . . obviously others.”
Precious Wind turned toward Abasio. “Xulai says you connect this creature to the men you met in the northern forests, when you were on your way to Woldsgard, some years ago.”
“There are similarities, yes, but the northern men didn’t stink like this. They smelled bad, but it was a sweat, smoke, dirt smell that men accumulate in the forest, in and out of campfire smoke, skinning animals, getting blood on them, bathing seldom, if ever. Their smell was similar, but nowhere near this strong. I think the northerners were all, or almost all, human, maybe a little bit of something else in an ancestress back several generations.”
Arakny mused, “So if Ogres are the result of Giant-Troll female breeding, could these be the result of Troll females bred by those northern men? And could they, looking into the past, be the result of some experimentation—of which there seems to have been entirely too much!”
Precious Wind said, “Remembering what the child—Needly—said, can we assume this one went somewhere to meet with another one? During the time before he came back, drunk, and shot Willum? Could he have spoken with someone from Sybbis’s camp?”
There was a moment of half-whispered babble. Abasio bowed his head in thought. “Sybbis was at your encampment. Right? Last night. Was the person she called a Gar there with her?”
There were murmurs, heads shaken. None of them had gone near the ganger camp.
Precious Wind murmured, “My map shows just one unpleasantly rocky ridge that extends between the Catland road and the Findem Pass road from their junction all the way up into the mountains. We’re facing the south side of it here, and it’s not far across. It’s difficult terrain, but it’s no real distance to speak of. I think it’s possible this one could have crossed the ridge and met with someone from Catland.” She shook her head in frustration. “I left my genetic analysis equipment in Artemisia, Abasio. I need to take samples from this body . . .”
“Let’s simply move the whole carcass,” Abasio countered. “Someone may come looking for it. I’d as soon nothing was found here. Its kinfolk may be vengeful.” Though heaven only knew what its kinfolk might be!
Bear hruffed for their attention. “Coyote n’ me can go up the hill a ways and hang around for a few days to see if something comes lookin’ for that one.”
Coyote murmured, “You’ll be going back to Artemisia, though, so it’d be a good idea for a person to come get us so we don’t have to walk to Artemisia.”
Abasio asked, “In case something does come looking for this one, can you scratch some dirt over the blood, maybe a few branches. Here and down there where the Griffin was?”
“Can’t do anything t’hide that smell,” said Bear. “It’ll still stink!”
Precious Wind spoke decisively: “Let’s do this: Bear and Coyote will stay here as they’ve offered to do. I’ll jump the group and the body back to the camp, but I’ll return here immediately with some stuff that will hide the smell. Then if you, Bear, and you, Coyote, are willing to keep watch while we get everyone moved back to Artemisia, I’ll come back around sundown—how long do you want to keep watch? How about I come at sundown three days from now, and every night after that if you two are investigating or following someone?”
“Y’gonna take that stinker to the plaza?” asked Bear.
“I don’t know what we’ll end up doing with the body, but I’ll definitely be back very shortly to kill the smell, and I’ll be back again in three days to get you.”
“Countin’ today?” asked Bear.
“Today is one, tomorrow is two, day after that is three.”
Bear nodded. “Well then, do it, before something else comes outta the trees at us. You might bring some food when you come back. There’s water here already.”
It was done in one dizzying journey, the intermediate stops blurring past their eyes as they went.
Precious Wind went to her own wagon; her own stock of potions and scents; even peeked in on her own dear friend in the nearby wagon—Xulai lying on the bed with the babies asleep beside her, face still streaked with tears.
Precious Wind shook her gently. “I think Abasio went to clean up a bit. I left the body outside the camp if you want to see it. I have an errand, but I’ll be back very shortly.”
She was gone. Xulai barely opened her eyes; she’d been grieving over Willum. Still half asleep, she went outside to have a look at the body of the hunter. Swallowing her disgust, she knelt beside it, half rolled, half pushed one filthy sleeve up away from the wrist, gagging at the smell as she did so. Under the cloth, the skin of the creature was greenish, whitish, grayish with writhing, branching veins beneath, almost like tendrils of moss. She leaned close. The veins of color moved! She picked up a twig from the ground and thrust it at the skin. It penetrated. The white layer tore, rolled, showing what might be a more “human” skin under it.
The shirtsleeve she had rolled away was coated on the inside, beginning about the elbow, with a layer of something black that looked much like . . . tar? Some kind of waterproof coating that was dry? Why was it there? To keep the white layer from seeping through the clothes? And how thick was the white stuff? She pushed the stick in, measured it against her index finger. From the tip of the finger to the top of the first joint. An inch. The stuff seemed to end at the bottom of the neck, and on the arms halfway to the elbow. She thrust her stick at the bottom of the trouser legs. On the legs it ended a bit above the ankle. She touched it. It felt like . . . clay. Wet clay. No! More like tallow. She pushed a fingertip into it, then watched as the indentation slowly returned to its original shape. Able to hold its shape but soft. Flexible. Permeable?
She stood up, putting her arms around herself, gritting her teeth, demanding the trembling, frightened inner part of her to stop shaking. She moved to the head of the creature and used the twig to separate locks of hair. The scalp was the same, a thinner layer there, only the thickness of a piece of sheepskin lying against the creature’s scalp, the texture of a soft soap, all of it emitting the same oily, rotten, dead-body smell.
Carefully she put it into words. Visually, except for the veins of darker color, it most resembled a greenish-grayish tallow. She cut slits in the clothing to determine that the coating covered the entire body except where it was exposed to the sun and air: the lower arms and hand; the face and neck. It probably did not extend to the soles of the feet. Someone else would have to remove one of those huge boots. She had no intention of trying. And Precious Wind could very well examine the creature’s sexual organs for herself!
Arakny approached. Xulai thrust her twig at wrists and ankles, muttering a cursory description of what she had seen and thought. She suggested that the body be covered with something so it couldn’t be seen from the air—who knew what other creatures may have been devised to keep watch upon these! Then she returned to her bed and did not open her eyes again until Precious Wind wakened her several hours later.
“I’ve jumped the Griffins to the building in Artemisia. Wide Mountain Mother was getting the Griffins set and arranging for food and water. There’s a plot just outside they can use for sanitary purposes. Sun-wings seems to be comfortable, and the little one is fine. Really, a very appealing little creature! I’ve jumped the body of the hunter into Wide Mountain Plaza temporarily. I just came back here to be sure everyone was moved. Those who don’t want to be jumped are on their way back there by road. So, if you’re agreeable, I’ll finish up by moving you and Abasio and the babies: wagon, horses, and all.”
“Is everyone ready, Blue and Rags, Kim?”
“Just waiting for you to say ‘go.’ They’re all outside, touching the wagon, including Blue and Rags.”
Xulai nodded and Precious Wind moved them, hop, and hop, and hop, and then a pause while she
entered a new destination. “I’m putting us into a space they’ve cleared, near the stables at Wide Mountain Plaza.” She went outside and stood next to Abasio, her hand on his arm.
They hopped once again. There was the sound of voices, the sharp crack of an ax splitting firewood, the smell of smoke. While the others moved away Abasio slowly turned, staring around him at the Wide Mountain Plaza. He had been here before, with Olly. Looking out through the gateway to the low hill across the river, he saw the long men’s houses, their tiled walls still riotous with color, all of them facing onto the dance ground with its long benches for the elders and the open-sided but well-roofed Drum House where the drummers and drumheads could make their thunders while they were protected from the rain. That’s near where the gangers had grabbed him, that other time, in that other world.
On either side of Wide Mountain Plaza were other houses and plazas, and others beyond them, all the female heads of families of Artemisia: Wide Mountain Mother had been elected for life: Mother-Most, head of the clans. Others were here: High Cliff Mother; Black River Mother, Stone Valley Mother—some dozen of them, formally considering themselves of different matrilineal families, but all of them with a shared history, tribal language, and dedication to stewardship of the earth. He and Olly had come here, to this house, carrying the clan neckerchiefs Olly had designed and dyed, the sign of the thistle. Prickly. Rather like Wide Mountain Mother herself. He turned. The wagon was gone.
Coming up beside him, Precious Wind laid her hand on his arm.
“Where are we supposed to be?” he asked.
“Your wagon’s around behind that house with the red door, Abasio. There’s a little grove and a well and outhouse there. It’s near a stables and pasture. I brought us all in a bunch and then put our mixed animal–people group where they’d be . . . suitable. There’s a shed there with bedding straw for Coyote and Bear, when they arrive. I checked with Wide Mountain Mother first. Are you all right?”