Hadon was chuckling at this thought when he saw five hill-men walk up to the stranger. These wore caps of honey badger fur with the heads still attached, badgerskin vests and loincloths, and cross-gaitered boots of foxskin. The stylized head of the honey badger was painted on their bare chests and foreheads. They carried leather sacks on their backs and long spears, bronze-tipped, in their hands. Short swords and knives hung in sheaths from their belts.
Hadon drifted closer, drawn more by curiosity than anything. The stranger had not risen; he looked up at his questioners from under heavy lids and smiled faintly. Hadon stopped when he was close enough to hear them. He could also smell the smoke impregnating the badger skins, the long-unwashed armpits and crotches, the rancid badger fat on their hair and the sweetish odor of mead on their breaths.
"We was kinda curious, stranger," one of the men was saying. "We ain't never seen a hunter like you in these parts, if you are a hunter."
"I'm a hunter," the stranger said in a deep slow voice.
"Not from these parts, you ain't," the first speaker said.
He swayed and blinked bloodshot eyes. "I know every accent in this valley, all through these here mountains, in fact. No one speaks funny like you do."
"Too bad," the stranger said. "However, my business is not yours."
"Is that so?" another hunter said. "Right now, anybody's business is everybody's business. Minruth's got spies everywhere, and Awineth's people are keeping an eye out for them. Did you report to the commander of the garrison?"
"I didn't know I was supposed to," the stranger said. "I'll do just that. When I feel like it."
He looked at Hadon and said, "Numatenu, Son of the Red Ant, citizen of Opar. Perhaps you can tell me if what these badger-men say is true? Am I required to report my visit to the local post?"
"The first time you come here, yes," Hadon said. "Apparently you haven't been here before."
The first speaker, a tall, heavily built man with brown, gray-flecked hair, hunkered down. He leaned forward to look at the knife at the stranger's side. "Say! That ain't bronze! That's iron! By Renamam'a, it's iron but not like any iron I ever saw!"
Hadon saw that about half an inch of shiny gray blade stuck up from the sheath.
"Would that be steel, stranger?" he asked. "My own sword is made of carbonized iron, but I have seen a sword made of carbonized iron mixed with nickel and tempered to a great hardness, holding an edge such as no metal ever had before. Kwasin, my cousin—you may have heard of him—has an ax which is made of the hardest iron I've ever seen. It came from a falling star, though, and so must be the metal used by the deities."
"That would be the ax of Wi, fashioned by a one-eyed hairy manling named Pag," the stranger said. "How did it fall into the hands of this Kwasin?"
Hadon was too amazed to answer. This stranger was no hunter from the hills, ignorant of affairs outside this valley. Moreover, he was no native speaker of Khokarsan, forced by the phonetic structure, of the language to add -a to Pag.
But how would this fellow know that Pag was the true name of the manling?
Hadon, speechless for the moment, stared at the stranger. Meanwhile, the big hillman rose to his feet swiftly, almost losing his balance, and reached out to grab the stranger by the wrist. But he missed as the gray-eyed man stepped back.
"Listen," the hillman said. "How'd you ever get a knife like that? You ain't no rich man or numatenu. You musta stole it!"
"The knife was my father's," the gray-eyed man said. "However, I don't have to account to you or any man."
He stared around him. The hillmen had gathered in front of him in a semicircle. His retreat was cut off by the booth.
Hadon stepped away, saying, "He's right. His only duty is to report to the post-commander. He doesn't have to answer any questions from you."
"Yeah?" the big hunter asked. "And if we let him go how do we know he's going to report? What's to keep him from just walking out of town, back to his spy-post in the hills?"
"You've accused me of being a thief and a spy," the stranger said quietly.
"Yeah? Well, so what?"
Another hillman, lean, one-eyed, snaggle-toothed, broken-nosed, said, "Better give us your knife, totemless. You do that and we'll forget your insults."
The gray eyes widened but he did not reply. Hadon saw now what they meant to do. They were not concerned about his being a spy; they coveted the knife. And they intended to get it if they had to kill for it. After all, he was unknown, hence a suspect. He wore no totem mark to bring his fellows to his defense.
Hadon said, "This man is under no obligation to give you his knife. You have no authority here. So back off. I'll take him to the post myself."
"He's a spy and a thief!" the big hunter bellowed. "Surrender that there knife, bootless! Or by the Great Badger herself, we'll take it from you!"
Two of the men turned toward Hadon, gripping their spears in ready position. "Now you just go on and mind your own business, numatenu," one said. "We'll take care of this here dirty spy."
"Thank you for trying to protect me," the stranger said to Hadon. "But you can avoid trouble and bloodshed if you'll just allow me to handle this."
The man certainly spoke a strange Khokarsan, his manner and language belying his savage appearance. He sounded very much like a well-educated upper-class person.
"I don't allow mangy acorn-knockers to order me around," Hadon said. He still did not draw his sword, since he hoped to scare the hillmen away. Once he had removed the blade from its sheath, he was committed to use it.
"Acorn-knockers!" the nearest man bellowed, his eyes wide, his face red. "Why, you big-city popinjay, I'll show you who's an acorn-knocker!"
He lunged with his spear. Hadon whipped out his blade just as the man finished his sentence. It sheared off the bronze spear's' leaf-shaped point, came around and severed the man's left hand. Hadon whirled then, bringing up the blade at the end of the cycle, repeating the first stroke, removing the head from the shaft of the spear of another back woodsman. This man dropped the shaft and hightailed it through the market, screaming for help.
All this had taken perhaps six seconds. Now three of the hillmen lay on the dirt, dead. The throats of two were slashed; the third had a bloody wound in his solar plexus. The stranger wiped his knife on the vest of the biggest man and stuck it into its sheath. He straightened up then and brushed his bangs away in an angry gesture. Hadon glimpsed a thin scar which started just above the left eye, ran across the top of the head and ended above the right ear.
"This whole affair was stupid," he said. "I tried to avoid it, but they insisted."
"There shouldn't be much trouble," Hadon said. "They were the aggressors; I'll testify to that. Some of their totem might decide to get blood revenge, though. These hill people are old-fashioned, you know. There is no doubt they were trying to rob you, however, so their kin might take that into consideration."
"The knife was just an excuse," the stranger said. "They knew that I saw them commit a crime two days ago, in the mountains north of here. I was coming down the trail when I heard some cries. I took to the bush and crept up unobserved on these men. They had cut the throat of a farmer and his two children and were raping the wife. Or trying to. They were all so drunk that none could manage it. So they cut her throat too, and staggered away with their pitiful loot."
"I came out of the woods to check the dead and one of the killers happened to turn around and see me. I walked away, but they did not try to trail me. I came here and we met again. You saw what happened."
Hadon looked across the marketplace at the northwest corner. Officers, led by the surviving hunter, were swarming out of the constabulary building. The man was shouting and pointing at Hadon and the stranger. After a brief conference, the constables walked swiftly toward them, the hillman trotting ahead of them, turning his head now and then to shout back at them.
Hadon thought that the hillman either had an excess of confidence or else he was too drunk to c
are for the consequences. He knew that the stranger had witnessed the murders, so why was he bringing in the police? Did he think that his accusations of espionage would cloud the issue, discredit anything the stranger might say?
He might have been correct but, in his intoxication, he had forgotten that Hadon could testify against him. And if he thought the constables would also arrest Hadon, he was very mistaken.
Hadon started to tell the stranger this, but the man smiled and said, "I am no spy. But I can't afford to be questioned."
He was gone. Hadon stared at him in astonishment. He had never seen a man run so swiftly yet so easily. He looked like he was loafing, saving energy for an emergency.
"He went that way!" the hillman shouted. The constables started to follow him but were called back by Hadon. He explained what had happened; as a result, the hillman was arrested and taken off to jail.
The chief constable was deferential but firm.
"We can't hold the man unless you charge him with unprovoked assault," he said. "After all, we have only the stranger's report of the murder, if it was a murder. It may have just been a feud killing, in which case the respective totems will take care of the matter. Unless the stranger appears as a witness, we can do nothing. And you must admit it's suspicious that he fled."
"Not necessarily," Hadon said. "There is so much hysteria about spies that he may have felt he wouldn't be safe no matter how innocent he was. As for the hillman, I do charge him with unprovoked assault with intention to kill."
"It's his word against yours," the constable said. "So the trial'll be a mere formality. Do you want him executed, beaten or sold into slavery?"
"I surrender my prerogative to the judge," Hadon said. "I suggest, however, that if he's enslaved he not be sold to an individual. He's too dangerous for that. He should go into a government chain gang."
"I'll give your recommendation to the judge," the constable said. He saluted and then gave instructions for the disposal of the corpses.
Hadon left the marketplace, arriving at the Temple of Kho a few minutes before Lalila walked out from it. She looked haggard, as if she had been through an ordeal. On seeing Hadon she smiled, then she looked wide-eyed. Hadon looked down and saw dried blood on his legs, almost hidden under the cluster of flies.
"I overlooked that," he said. As they walked to their apartment he told her about the incident in the marketplace.
She stopped, her hand on her breast. "Sahhindar!" she said.
"What?" he said, shock running through him, followed by a feeling of unreality. "You can't mean…?"
"Who else is six feet three and has black hair cut in bangs, hiding such a scar, and has gray eyes and speaks archaic Khokarsan? Who else has such a knife, a knife of such hard keen metal?"
"But what is he doing here? Is he checking up on us, Abeth, Paga and myself? He said he would."
"I have seen a god," Hadon half whispered. "A god in the flesh."
"He said that he was no god, that he was as vulnerable to death by accident or homicide as any of us," Lalila said. "It is just that he ages very slowly. I didn't understand most of what he told me; he comes from a different world."
"Whatever the truth," Hadon said, "he doesn't concern us unless he makes us his business. And it's up to him to let us know that. What did Suguqateth tell you?"
Lalila looked around her and lowered her voice, though no one seemed to be interested in them.
"She said first that we must not tell anyone else what I am going to tell you. Kho would not like it. Second, when we were with the old oracle, Awineth did not tell us all that the old woman said. Suguqateth heard everything, of course, but she had been ordered by Awineth to keep silent. Suguqateth feels that Awineth is wrong, however; she has no right to suppress Kho's words when they were addressed to us. Awineth, she feels, is putting her personal feelings above the dictates of the Goddess. And so Suguqateth feels she is justified in revealing all of Kho's words."
"Which were?" Hadon said.
"I must leave for Opar as soon as possible. And you must accompany me there. Only thus will our unborn child achieve long life and greatness."
15.
At one hour to midnight, the party left the Inn of the Red Parrot. The sky was clouded; the only lights were a few distant torches carried by the night patrols. All were cloaked and hooded and carried weapons and bags of provisions—all except Abeth, who rode sleeping on Hinokly's back. Their guide was a priestess, muffled in a black cloak.
By dawn they were in the mountains northwest of the town. They continued up, reaching the narrow precipitous pass at noon. This led them down into a little valley and up another steep and even higher mountain.
Near dusk of the next day, they climbed onto a plateau. By the setting sun they saw the Kemu, the Great Water.
"We need rest, but we cannot stop," the priestess said. "Awineth will have an army out looking for you. Doubtless she has sent troops through the pass at Notamimkhu. They'll be searching along the shores east and west of the pass. The port at Notamimkhu is blockaded, but that doesn't stop us from using small ships elsewhere."
She led them to the edge of the plateau and gestured at something below. About four hundred feet down, at the foot of the cliff, the sea rose and fell sullenly in the moonlit darkness. Something gleamed whitely in it, a ship riding at anchor about a quarter mile out.
The priestess blew on a bone whistle shaped like a parrot-headed fish. From a cave nearby came six men carrying ropes, blocks and heavy wooden tripods. They set up the equipment, and in a short time Hadon was being lowered in a sling at the end of a rope.
A ledge jutted from the cliff several feet above the surface of the sea. Hadon landed on this, got out of the sling, yanked twice on the rope and watched the sling climb back up. Within fifteen minutes all of the party, including the priestess, were on the ledge. She lit a storm-lantern and waved it back and forth. Presently the dim bulk of a rowboat could be distinguished putting out from the white sailship.
Hadon, Abeth, Lalila, Paga, Hinokly and Kebiwabes were on the ship in two trips. They were hustled belowdecks at once, and the anchor was pulled up. The ship began moving out toward the sea, slowly at first, then heeling suddenly under a breeze.
Morning found them crowded and cramped together, with the ship rolling more than at first. The hatch was opened and daylight flooded in. At the top of the ladder was a young fellow, freckled, blue-eyed, red-haired. He wore a vest of brown sea otter, a rosary of wooden beads, each carved with the face of Piqabes, goddess of the sea, and a codpiece formed from the head of a fish-eagle. His chest bore the blue outline of the deep-sea gruntfish.
"Captain Ruseth at your service!" he said merrily. "Come on out! Breakfast, such as it is, will be served soon!"
Ruseth did not look old enough to be a captain, though Hadon reminded himself that the title was not necessarily a grand one. A commander of a two-man ship would be the captain. His mission was an important one, however, even if he was young, so he had to be very competent. Suguqateth would not have trusted him otherwise.
They came out yawning, scratching, farting and blinking. The sun was up in a cloudless sky. The sea was heavier, coming in great broad rolls. To the south, just visible, were the tops of the mountains along the northwest coast of the island of Khokarsa. There were no other ships in sight. No other living creatures, indeed, except some of the omnipresent datoekem, large white birds with hooked black beaks.
There was a good breeze, coming from the northwest. The ship was sailing almost straight east. The swinging yardarm was let out to the right by ropes so the wind struck it at an angle, causing the ship to heel over at an angle uncomfortable for the landlubbers. Ruseth and his four sailors seemed at ease.
One of the seamen brought buckets filled with hard biscuits made from emmer wheat, hard-boiled duck eggs, beef jerky, olives and wine. Hadon took his over the sloping deck to Ruseth, who had taken over the rudder. "I am no sailor," he said, "but we seem to be moving along more swift
ly than any ship I've ever seen."
"Isn't she a beauty!" Ruseth cried. "I designed and built her myself. And I invented that triangular sail; I call it the fore-and-aft, as contrasted with the old square sail."
"It looks weird, I must admit," Hadon said. "Just how is it superior to the square sail?"
"It enables us to sail against the wind!" Ruseth said, grinning proudly.
"Against?"
Hadon stepped back from the redhead. "That smacks of—"
"Magic? Evil magic? Nonsense, my friend! Do you think for one moment that the vicars of great Kho would be my patrons if I were using evil forces? No way!" And he proceeded to explain tacking into the wind with a rotatable yard-arm.
Hadon listened, then said, "Amazing. It seems so simple when you describe it. I wonder why no one ever thought of it before?"
Ruseth looked angry, then he laughed. "That was probably said to the man who first thought of making fire. Or to the man who first made mead."
"I conceived this when I was sixteen, living in a little fishing village off the northwest corner of the island. The idea came to me one night in a dream, so I can't take credit for it. Piqabes herself undoubtedly sent it, though I had been thinking about sails and sailing for a long time. Anyway, I dreamed of the fore-and-aft sail and worked on some small models in my spare time. No much of that, you know, for a fisherlad. Then I made a small ship of my own—took me a year to do that. And months to learn how to sail the craft."
"The villagers were interested; they admitted I could sail faster than they could, but they said the old ways were good enough for them. I thought I had a fortune in this, so I went to the capital to get a hearing from the Naval Department. It took me three months to get it—I had to work nights at an inn as a waiter. Daytimes I sat in an outer office cooling my heels until an admiral deigned to see me."
"I showed him how my invention worked, with models and sketches. I invited him to come for a trial run in my little ship."