Warriors Of Latan

Chapter 17

It sounded like a small war going on beyond the hill. Ezintis bawled, men shouted, hooves thudded on hard-packed ground, and every so often something went thump or whuck. It couldn't be a Rutari raid, not this close to the main village, but Blade was curious. He ran out of his hut, hurried up the hill, and looked down on the field along the bank of the stream beyond it.

More than two dozen Uchendi warriors were riding back and forth on ezintis. Each warrior was guiding his ezinti with one hand, and the other hand held something like a polo mallet with a wicker cup on the end. They seemed to be chasing small feathered balls around the field, trying to catch them in the cups of their mallets. If they couldn't do that, they'd whack each other or the ezintis with the mallets. Blade saw two men go sprawling on the ground, but both promptly got up again, cursing much too loudly for injured men.

Blade was almost at the edge of the field before anyone noticed him. Then someone shouted, scooped a ball into his cup, and slammed the ball straight at Blade. Blade didn't even have time to consider ducking. He felt a whfffff as the ball nearly parted his hair.

«Hey, you-!» Blade shouted. He went on to describe what the man's mother had eaten the night she conceived him, who his father had been, and why no woman would touch him. By the time Blade ran out of breath the man was laughing so hard he could barely stay on his mount. He rode over as Blade bent to pick up the ball.

«I am sorry, Blade. It seemed a good jest.»

«Well, it was not you whose skull might have cracked,» said Blade. The ball was solid brass, wrapped in leather and with feathers woven into the leather. The weight made it fly far, but the feathers made it fly wildly.

He tossed the ball back to the rider. «I have not seen this game played here before. What is it called?»

By now other riders had seen Blade and come up. «It is called nor,» said one. «We are the White Tree team, or will be. We practiced to play against the Black Rock team of Winter Owl. Why do you ask, Blade? Is there a game like this in England?»

«There is, and I have played it.» He hadn't played much polo, and none since he left Oxford. He didn't have the time or money to keep in practice, let alone maintain a stable of ponies.

Several riders exchanged significant looks. «Would you like to play for us?» said the same man.

«As a rider or as an ezinti?» said someone else, and there was laughter. «No, in truth,» said the man, «you may laugh, but look at him. He could carry you on his shoulders for half a game, Friend of Lions! What ezinti could carry Blade? Certainly not mine, and I would not let him try, either. He may be needed for other work than carrying vast English warriors before long.»

Everybody stopped smiling at the reminder that war with the Rutari could not be far off. Blade had to admit the man had a point. He weighed two hundred and ten pounds; most Uchendi warriors weighed a good deal less. He would be enough of a load for an ezinti to slow it down, and success in nor depended heavily on speed.

It wouldn't help, either, if he wound up playing against Winter Owl. He didn't know how important having his team win was to the warrior, but why take chances?

But why not take a chance? He couldn't go on sitting on his arse much longer, not with the Uchendi needing help. Even if he annoyed Winter Owl, there must be other warriors with some influence. Friend of Lions, captain of the White Tree team, might be one of them.

«I will play as one of the White Trees, if there is an ezinti fit to carry me. I will not need one who can carry me fast, as long as he can carry me for a full game.»

«How can you hope to play at all, if you are slow?» said Friend of Lions. He sounded honestly confused. «That is not the way of nor. «

«It is not the old way of nor, this I know,» said Blade. «But the old way of a thing is not always the only way or even the best way.» He was bluffing about the game of nor. He didn't have much idea of what he was going to do once he got on the back of an ezinti. He did want to start getting the Uchendi used to the idea of change, and this was too good an opening to miss.

Friend of Lions shrugged. «You are the best judge of what you can do, Blade. Perhaps you are not so good a judge of the game of nor, but I will give you my own second mount for your riding until the game.» He grinned. «But if you kill it or hurt it past use, you shall go among the Rutari to find me a new mount.»

That was the standard penalty for killing or stealing another man's ezinti among the Uchendi. To most men, it was as good as a death sentence. To Blade, it sounded almost like an opportunity to spy on the Rutari with the blessing of Uchendi custom.

That might be handy.

Don't get ahead of yourself, he told himself. If you don't make a good showing in the game of nor, Friend will just take away your mount and you'll have even less honor than before.

«Among the Uchendi, I shall be as one of them, unless the spirits of my English ancestors turn their faces away from me. Now, let me see this stick you use in the game of nor.»

Blade quickly discovered that to him the cup-ended stick was much more important in the game of nor than good riding or a fast ezinti. Blade had a longer and stronger arm and a sharper eye than any of the Uchendi riders. He could pick up a ball faster than any and hurl it farther and more accurately at the goal. The goals were foot-wide holes set in the top of mounds of earth at either end of the field. The ball had to be thrown accurately into the hole, not just slammed toward it and allowed to roll in.

It was also to Blade's advantage that when he swung his stick against another rider, it hurt. In practice, he and everybody else pulled their blows. On the day of the game, everybody would be striking full force. Broken bones were common in the game of nor, and dead ezintis not infrequent. There had even been dead men, although Uchendi warriors were hard to kill.

«Nor seems to be how you people practice for war,» said Blade one evening, after a practice session that left him with bruises all over and a split lip. He'd scored six goals, so he was feeling rather good in spite of the aches and pains.

«It is,» agreed Friend of Lions. «But I do not know if the Guardian will allow us to use man-strikes with the sticks in this Great Game. The Rutari watch and wait, and all of our warriors must be whole and ready to fight when they come.»

«That is so,» said Blade. «But why doesn't the Guardian just give the order not to strike?»

«It might anger Winter Owl,» said Friend of Lions. «His team has five of the strongest man-strikers of the Uchendi. They would lose much strength if they could not play as they usually do.»

No need to ask if the Guardian feared to anger Winter Owl. Blade began to wish he hadn't sworn to play against the warrior's team. However, it was too late to back out now without letting down the White Trees. That would be just as bad as angering Winter Owl by helping to beat his team.

There was one consolation. Blade now had an ezinti of his own, a sturdy if rather slow-wilted beast. He could ride out of the village any time he wanted privacy, as long as he was back before nightfall. He didn't need to ride very far before he had enough privacy to start testing with bow and arrows while he waited for the Great Game of nor to take place.

The bow was no problem. His harness made a good one, just as he'd expected. If it got too hard he would dip it in a cold stream to make it more flexible; if it got too soft he would lay it on a sun-heated rock. Ezinti sinew made a good bowstring, and he'd found reeds tough enough for arrows to use for demonstration and practice.

He'd want wooden arrows with stone or even bronze heads before the war started. Unless he could find a poison for them, pointed-reed arrows wouldn't do much damage to the shpugas. Those hairy hides would repel a light bullet, let alone most arrows! Newly trained archers couldn't hope to hit vital spots and cause any significant damage.

Feathers for the arrows were a problem. The Uchendi had several different kinds of domestic fowl, and Blade tried them all. He collected so many different feathers that the Guardian himself wondered why.

«Before the war with the Rutari comes, I must make a war bonnet of feathers in the English style,» Blade said. «I must test each kind of feather with my magic, where it will not disturb the village. The Rutari would not let me do that. This is one reason why I left them.»

«None of the Uchendi will speak against the ways of the English without answering to me,» said the Guardian.

«I thank you,» said Blade. He would have been even more grateful if the Guardian had promised to make the warriors speak for English ways. But the Guardian ruled the Uchendi only in matters of telepathy and religion, not war.

Eventually Blade discovered that the best feathers came from something called a greenfoot, about the size of a chicken and the shape of a goose, with a nasty temper but a delicious flavor when roasted. Blade fletched two dozen reed arrows with greenfoot feathers and made all the rest into the promised war bonnet. Then he took everything out to his chosen archery range in a little fold of hills south of the village.

He was a good archer, but he wanted to be even better before he demonstrated archery to the Uchendi. He had to show them not only that it existed, but that it would work.

Four days before the Great Game of nor, Blade reached his archery range. It was midmorning and he'd left the village before dawn, with his stomach empty except for a drink of water. The first thing he did was eat a handful of nuts and a slab of dried meat. Then he settled down to practice.

By noon he'd used all his arrows several times, broken four of them, and brought down two birds on the wing. He was particularly proud of that. The birds were no larger than quail, and he'd picked them off at fifty yards. The reed arrows were better than he'd expected, and if he could find a poison for them they might do a job even against the shpugas.

He decided to make up for missing breakfast by roasting the birds for lunch. He was squatting in the shadow of a boulder, plucking the birds, when he heard the faint scraping of feet on stone above him.

Blade jumped up and away from the boulder in a single motion, then snatched up his spear and drew his knife in a second one. Soft laughter answered him, and Eye of Crystal's head appeared over the top of the boulder. She was grinning complacently.

«How did you get here?»

«I followed your trail. A child could have done that.»

«A child can follow anyone who does not think he is being followed.» It was true that Blade hadn't bothered to hide his tracks. He hadn't thought he would need to, either. «Very well. I have not been wise. That does not tell me why you are here.»

«I wanted to see what you were doing, so that I might tell my father if it was dangerous to the Uchendi.»

«You took a big chance. Suppose it was so dangerous that I decided to kill you to keep you from talking about it?»

«I did not let you hear me until I knew it was not dangerous. I knew you would not kill me unless you thought I would put you in danger.»

Blade couldn't deny that. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd rather not leave the Uchendi than speak a word against Eye of Crystal. He wasn't exactly in love with her, but he'd bend over backward not to hurt her.

«So what do you think of what I am doing, now that you have decided it is no danger to the Uchendi?»

«I think it might be a danger to the shpugas of the Rutari. Is that what you want it to be?» she asked with a sly smile.

Blade's well-trained sixth sense for other people's tricks told him there was something more behind Eye of Crystal's grin. Probably not dangerous, but something he needed to know. «Yes. You see clearly. But it is not ready to be taken to war against the shpugas, or anything more dangerous than those birds you saw me kill.»

«I know. It cannot be taken to war at all, unless my mother's brother, Winter Owl, allows it. He has the last word in such matters of war.»

Here it comes, thought Blade. «Why do you tell me what I already know? Do you think I have lost my wits?»

«No.» She laughed. «At least I do not think that playing against Winter Owl's team in the Great Game of nor is a sign of madness. But if he also learns that you are making weapons-magic without telling him-Blade, what did you say?»

What Blade had muttered under his breath was, «There must be something in the water of this Dimension!» First Cheeky, now Eye of Crystal, playing at blackmail. «I do not wish him to know this, indeed. Do you wish to tell him?»

«That depends.»

«On what?»

«On whether or not you take me with you when you go against the Rutari. «

«Into the war? You little-«He counted to ten, then said, «You are not a warrior. You would need much protection. Also, either River Over Stones or-«

Eye of Crystal spat and nearly hit Blade. She giggled at the expression on his face. «I am sorry, Blade. But that is what I think of River Over Stones. He will not lift a finger, let alone a spear, to take me one step outside the village. And Winter Owl-he will have too much else to do, leading the warriors.»

«But-what makes you think I will not have just as much to do?»

«When Winter Owl speaks for all warriors to learn the new weapons-magic, you will teach them. When the warriors march, your work will be done. I will not take one moment of the days while you teach. The nights, perhaps, but not the days.

«When we march, though, you will be as one warrior among many. It will not be hard for you to let me see the battle. Not as hard as it will be to have Winter Owl speak for your new weapon, if I talk to him now.»

Blade gritted his teeth. How to convince this girl that she was putting her people in danger, just because she wanted to see a battle? If she told Winter Owl about his «weapons-magic» maybe Winter Owl would see reason, but he was even more likely to see Blade's superior knowledge of warfare as a flat-out challenge to his authority. That authority was something he valued; he'd won it by years of fighting and hunting and the pain of a dozen wounds. He would not take lightly any challenge to it by an English wizard-warrior.

Eye of Crystal sat down on top of the boulder, cross-legged, with her hands in her lap. She wore only her loinguard and in that position looked stark naked. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on the upper slopes of her breasts ….

Blade tore his eyes away from her and shrugged. «I will not defy your father, mother, or mother's brother if they do not allow me to take you into the battle. If I did that, I would probably die. Is that not so?» She nodded reluctantly. «Then I would not be able to protect you. Otherwise, I swear to do my best to see that you march with me against the Rutari. Is that enough?» He did not add the thought, It had bloody well better be!

«Oh, yes,» said Crystal. «I know you are only a man, as good a one as you are. I will not ask for more than a man can give.»

«At least you haven't since the night before last,» said Blade with a grin.

«Have you missed it?» she said with a laugh. Then before he could answer she leaped down from the top of the boulder, as lightly as a gazelle. In landing she managed to fall against him and throw her arms around him, while nuzzling his throat with her lips and pressing her breasts against his chest.

He lifted her and carried her off in search of soft ground. They didn't go fast, because he was kissing her breasts, and she had her hand under Blade's loinguard as they moved. By the time they got to a grassy stretch of the bank of the stream it didn't really matter whether they were in telepathic contact or not. They were both so eager that they pulled each other down and were locked together in moments, laughing and giggling, then sighing, groaning, and finally crying out in release. Crystal's happy scream was so loud that birds flew up in panic from around the bend of the stream.

They lay with Crystal draped across Blade's chest like a warm blanket. He ran a finger down her spine and played with her buttocks and the crease between them. «So tell me, Woman Who Asks More Than A Man Can Give, what news from the village? I've spent all my waking time either practicing archery or nor.»

«There is a hiba-gan coming, or so we hear from the north.» Something in Crystal's voice made Blade leave off caressing her.

«A what?»

«More likely a who. A hiba-gan, a Holy Wanderer. It does not come often. It is to be hoped it will pass through our village. Yet it is unlawful to send to it and ask.»

«That doesn't tell me much,» said Blade cautiously.

«There is not much to tell about this hiba-gan or any other,» said Crystal. «They go where they will, sometimes bringing messages, sometimes only watching in silence. It is said that the message of the gods, which sends them wandering, changes their faces and skins, so they must cloak themselves from human eyes.»

«They go about in disguise?»

«Oh yes. One cannot tell whether they are man or woman, or even human or beast, although they walk upright like men.» She sat up. «Blade, are you thinking of uncloaking a Holy Wanderer?»

«I was not. I was thinking that this is perhaps not a good time for someone we are not sure about to learn the secrets of the Uchendi. Such as this.» He slapped the bow.

«Hiba-gans do not heed matters of war,» said Crystal. «And it is almost as unlawful to lie to one as it is to uncloak it. You would be cast out from the Uchendi if you did either, and your archery would be declared forbidden-«

Blade held up a hand. «Wait, wait, Crystal. I am not going to lie to the hiba-gan, nor uncloak it. Have I shown so little respect for the laws of the Uchendi or been so stupid that you would think that?» Seeing her shake her head slowly, he went on. «Nor do I ask anyone else to do these unlawful things. I merely ask that you not mention my archery to the hiba-gan, any more than you would to Winter Owl.»

«And if the Holy Wanderer asks-then perhaps the hiba-gan is not what it seems, is perhaps trying to learn our secrets… «

Very sharp, thought Blade. Good thing she's on my side. «Yes. Who knows? The hiba-gans might really be Idol Makers in disguise, come back to watch how the tribes are living. We do not know what the Idol Makers would think of me or my archery. «

Crystal looked unsure if she should laugh or not. Finally she compromised with a thin smile. «That could be so,» she said.

Blade gave up hope of the Uchendi being more willing than the Rutari to talk about the Idol, and decided he really shouldn't be surprised. It was probably a touchy subject for them.

Also, for all he knew, the Idol Makers might have been just a band of explorers passing through, with a technology that was advanced enough to look like magic to these tribesmen.

But I bloody well am going to find out for sure, before I leave this Dimension!