The Carpet People

CHAPTER 14

Snibril had led the search, after the storm. They'd sifted through the rubble of the place. They'd gone down into Underlay, roped together, and shouted out the names of those who were lost. They'd found nothing.

But as Pismire would have pointed out, finding nothing was better than finding ... something.

Then they'd discovered the tracks in the distant clearing. Lots of creatures had come up. It seemed to Snibril that there had been someone else following them, someone who had lain low for a while in the bushes ... but everything was covered with dust shaken down by the storm, and it was hard to be sure. The tracks, such as they were, led south.

The Munrungs had helped Brocando's people rebuild walls and things, even though the rock itself was now visibly leaning over. And, as someone said, if Fray came again at least they now knew how to get into Underlay. Nothing would get them there.

Snibril thought about this as he rode Roland through the hairs, looking for any more tracks.

We can always go into Underlay, he thought. We can stop being people. We can just grub around in the dark.

The Deftmenes think that no enemy is too big to fight, but we never even see Fray.

The Dumii don't think like that. They think that if an enemy is too big, you should find a smaller enemy.

Maybe Pismire is right. We can't stop Fray. But at least we can stop being frightened of Fray.

"I'm going to Ware," he told the tribe that evening. They looked at him in horror. Technically, Glurk was still chief ... if he was alive. If he wasn't, then Snibril was chief. Glurk's children were all too young. No-one wanted to lose another chief.

"You can't leave us," said Dodor Flint, who was the tribe's shoemaker. "You're the leader."

"Ware's important," said Snibril. "We'd just be simple hunters if it wasn't for the Empire."

The Munrungs looked at one another.

"We are simple hunters," said Flint.

"Yes, but at least we know we are," said Snibril. "Anyway, we've got more complicated."

"That's true," said Crooly Wulf, who was nearly as old as Pismire. "People don't hit one another over the head with clubs as much as they did when I was a boy. There's more arguing."

"That doesn't mean we're better people!" said Flint.

Crooly Wulf rubbed his head. "I dunno," he said. "People are taller now. They don't groan so much, either."

"Huh! But the Deftmenes don't have anything to do with the Dumii," said Flint. "And they manage."

"They fight them," said Snibril, simply. "It's amazing how things rub off, even when you fight people. Ideas like ... like not just killing people all the time, that sort of thing."

A Deftmene put up his hand.

"That's true," he said. "The king always used to throw people off the rock in the old days."

"He still does," said another Deftmene.

"Yes, but he doesn't laugh about it so much. And he says he's doing it for their own good."

"See?" said Snibril desperately. "The Dumii have an effect. Even if you're their enemy. I'm going south. Perhaps I can find the others. Perhaps the Empire can help us."

"Yes, but you're our leader-" Flint began again.

"Then I'm going to lead!" snapped Snibril. "Who else is coming?"

Some of the younger Munrungs raised their hands.

A Deftmene stood up. "Will there be fighting against impossible odds?" he said.

"Probably," said Snibril.

"Right! Count us in!" A lot of Deftmenes nodded. Another one said: "And will we get a chance to fight to the death?"

"You might get a chance to fight to the enemy's death," said Snibril.

"Is that as good?"

"Better."

"Right, then. We're with you!"

In the end three hundred and fifty Deftmenes and fifty Munrungs volunteered to go. On the Rock their families would be as safe as anywhere in the Carpet, they agreed, but someone had to stay. Anything could happen.

Four hundred, thought Snibril. Who knows how many we're going to face?

On the other hand, since we don't know how many we're going to face, four hundred might be just enough.

Always choose a bigger enemy. It makes him easier to hit.

We must go to Ware, It's where we all began, in a way. It's where people first realized that there may be a better way of doing things than hitting one another on the head.