However, for the moment Blade was safe from everything except being trampled to death by the Fak'si greeting him. As he stepped off the houseboat everyone in the village rushed toward him, in such a crowd that a few people were pushed into the river. Fortunately none of them were hurt and all of them could swim. By the time they'd pulled themselves out of the water, Swebon's voice and fists were clearing a path for Blade.
Keeping close behind the chief, Blade strode up the main path winding through Four Springs village. The people let him pass, but as he did they reached out to touch him. All the men tried to pat his hair, and some of them were bold enough to try pulling out handfuls of it. Blade winced, told himself that hair must have some religious significance among the Fak'si, and managed not to punch any of the hair-pullers in the jaw. When he reached the top of the path, he still ran his hands through his hair to make sure he hadn't been plucked entirely bald.
At the top of the path stood three large trees growing so close together that their branches were intertwined. In those branches the Fak'si had built a positive mansion among treehouses-seven platforms, some of them completely enclosed, each of them at a different level and all of them linked by light bridges of something like reddish bamboo.
«This is my house,» said Swebon. «The farthest of the roofs-«he pointed «- is for the use of honored guests of the chief. To get to you, an enemy must pass not only me, but the men who watch in my house.»
«I am honored, Swebon,» said Blade. «But I do not think I need fear much from the Fak'si, at least tonight.» He was tempted to add, «Except having my hair pulled out by the roots.»
«Perhaps not,» said Swebon. «But let us do you the honor you deserve for one night at least. After that you can sleep under the chief's roof, on the ground, or on the topmost branch of a kohkol tree if you wish.»
«Very well,» said Blade. The chief led him up an actual flight of steps, carved into the foot-thick bark of the largest of the three trees. Then they made their way from platform to platform, deeper into the branches.
On the third platform they found a tall man lying across the middle of it, head raised on one hand and the other hand lying across a spear. The man was about the same size as Swebon and looked like a slightly younger and much worse tempered version of the chief. Possibly the bad temper wasn't natural-one thigh was heavily bandaged. The expression on his face still made Blade look at him carefully-and then wish he had a spear of his own.
«Hail, Swebon,» said the man. «So this is the one they all cheer.»
«They should cheer him, Guno,» said Swebon. «So should you. You know what he has done, or if you do not, I will tell you.»
«I know what he has done.»
«Then why did you not come to meet us on the path?» He pointed to Guno's thigh. «There is pain in it, I know, but-«He broke off and said only, «It would have been good for you to come down and join us in honoring Blade.»
«I know, my brother,» said Guno, sitting up. «Blade, forgive me for this foolish wound that has kept me from doing you proper honor. I would not be your enemy because of this ill luck.»
No, but you'd gladly be my enemy for some other reason, Blade thought. «I'd better find out what it is, too. If the chief's brother became hostile while Blade was living in the chief's house, things could get awkward.
«No, certainly not. We shall not be enemies at all, if I can do anything about it,» said Blade. He gripped Guno's outstretched hand and patted his hair with the other hand, then let Guno do the same. After that Swebon led Blade on to the next platform.
It seemed that they'd been wandering among the branches for an hour when Swebon finally stopped at the end of a narrow bridge. At the far end was a platform completely enclosed in a beehive-shaped tent of leaves. Through a gap in the leaves Blade could see a small fire burning on a stone slab in the center of the platform.
«There is your place, Blade,» said Swebon. «Food and drink are already there. Is there more that you wish? A woman, water, fish, or sticks to honor your gods, flowers-?»
Blade shook his head. «I would be greedy to ask the Fak'si for more tonight. I will pray to my gods tonight, but I can do that alone.» He pretended to hesitate. «I would also like to join the prayers of your warriors and hunters. By the laws of the English I am allowed to do this when I travel. If the laws of the Fak'si permit me…?» It was always possible to win friends among a people by joining in their religious rites.
Sometimes you could pick up important information as well.
«I understand,» said Swebon. «I am sure you may join in some of our sacrifices to the Forest Spirit. The priests must say which ones, though.»
«Of course,» said Blade.
«Then be at peace this night, Blade, friend of the Fak'si,» said Swebon. He patted Blade's hair, then turned away as Blade crossed the bridge to his sleeping quarters for the night.
Apparently the Fak'si were going to start honoring Blade by stuffing him like a Christmas turkey. Wooden plates and bowls were laid out on the floor all around the fire, along with wood-plugged gourds and bulging leather sacks. Blade sat down and started his meal.
There was fruit, porridge, and stews of leaves, roots, and herbs. There were several kinds of fish and two kinds of meat, one tasting rather like pork and the other tasting like nothing Blade had ever eaten or wanted to eat. He stuck to the pork. There were several kinds of fruit juices, two of them fermented until they were almost wine, and an overflowing sack of sour beer: There was enough food and drink for three men as hungry as Blade was, with enough left over for a few midnight snacks. When Blade lay down to sleep, he'd eaten all he could hold and drunk as much as he thought was safe.
His bedding was a thick mat of leaves held together by a net of woven-grass rope. There was a smaller pad for a pillow, but nothing like blankets. In this damp heat they were hardly needed. There were no insects inside the shelter. Blade noticed that some of the leaves woven into the walls had a peculiar odor, rather like overripe lemons. He wondered if they acted as a sort of bug repellant.
Blade moved his sleeping mat to the side of the shelter farthest from the door. Now the whole width of the shelter and the litter of empty dishes on the floor lay between Blade and any possible intruders. Anyone who barged in during the night was certain to make enough noise to wake him. Even if he couldn't fight, he could always break through the wall and drop to the ground. The woven leaves were no tougher than light cloth and the drop to the ground was less than fifteen feet.
Blade trusted Swebon, and perhaps Swebon's guards would do their duty. But if Swebon let his brother Guno live in the chief's house, and if Guno already saw Blade as an enemy or at least a potential rival- It might not be tactful to repay Swebon's friendship with suspicion, but Blade would rather be tactless than dead.
With this thought in his mind, he stretched out, rolled on to his side, and fell asleep.
Blade's instincts brought him awake, and his fighter's reflexes kept him motionless on his sleeping pad. The fire was dead and inside the shelter was utter blackness, but Blade knew he hadn't been fooled. There was someone in the shelter with him, standing by the door. He continued to lie still and resisted the temptation to challenge them. If he stayed quiet, they were likely to have more trouble finding him than he would have finding them. No doubt the Fak'si could hear and see in the dark much better than any civilized man, but so could Richard Blade.
The silence dragged on, broken only by the night birds and insects and by the faint scrape of the intruder's feet on the floor. He seemed to be a small person, moving slowly and cautiously around the edge of the shelter and only very gradually approaching Blade.