Judging from her description, she did indeed come from the far South and East, in fact just about where he himself wanted to go. Which made him listen to every word she dropped with extra special attention.
Her country was a land of wailed cities and giant trees, a tropical forest which reached up to the very sky. It was also a land of constant warfare, of blood and death, of great beasts and warlike men. A church and a priesthood not too unlike that of the Abbeys, so far as he could gather, governed the religion of the people and preached peace and cooperation. But the priests were seemingly incapable of stopping the constant warfare between the various city-states. These states were socially stratified, with castes of nobles, merchants, artisans, and peasants, plus autocratic rulers. There were standing armies, just as large as could be economically maintained without crippling their respective countries through taxation exacted from the peasants to maintain them.
Hiero was frankly incredulous. “Can your people read and write?” he asked. “Have they any of the old books of the past? Do you know of The Death?”
Of course they could read and write, she retorted. Or at least the priesthood and most of the nobles could. The poor were kept too busy to learn, except the few who got into the church. The merchants could do simple, practical arithmetic. What more was needed? As for The Death, everyone knew about it. Were not many of the Lost Cities nearby, and some of the deserts of The Death too? But books from the pre-Death age were forbidden, except perhaps to the priesthood. She herself had never seen one, though she had heard of their existence and also that anyone who found one had to turn it over to the authorities on pain of death.
“Good God!” the Metz exploded. “Your people—and I’m assuming that most of what you’ve told me is the truth—have picked up all the discarded social junk of the dead past at its worst. I knew some of the traders down here had slaves, but I thought they were probably the most primitive people we knew about. The Eastern League at Otwah can’t have heard about you either, because they’re not far behind us. Kingdoms, peasants, internecine warfare, armies, slavery, and general illiteracy! What your D’alwah place needs is a thorough housecleaning!”
I lis obvious disgust silenced the girl, who bit her full lower lip in anger at his open contempt. She was nothing near being stupid, and she knew that her strange rescuer was both a clever and, more, a learned man. For the first time in a long while, Luchare began to wonder if her longed-for homeland was quite as perfect as her dreams made it.
“I’m sorry,” Hiero said abruptly. “I was rude about your country, and you had nothing to do with making it the way it is. I’ve never seen it, and it’s probably a very nice place. It sounds interesting, anyway. Please go on with your own story. I’d like to hear what brought you so far from the Lantik Sea. I know how far away that is, at least up in the North.”
“Well,” she began, a little doubtfully, “I ran away, from my—my slave master, who was cruel to me. I really did,” she said earnestly, her dark eyes large in the dim light.
“Oh, I believe you. Go on from there. How long ago was that?”
It had been well over a year, Luchare thought. It had been hard at first, and she had learned to steal food from peasant huts. Wild animals had almost caught her on several occasions, but she had got toughened up and had weapons too, also stolen, a spear and a knife. She had lived thus on the cultivated lands at the edge of a great jungle for several months, until one day she had fallen from a tree, breaking her ankle. While waiting for the inevitable prowling animal to find her, an Elevener had come instead.
“What, you have them too?” he interrupted. “I had no idea they went so far. What do they do in your society? Are they well thought of, do people trust them?” He was really excited, for here at last was an actual link between the two widely separated areas from which they came.
The “Eleveners,” the mysterious followers of the so-called Eleventh Commandment, were a group of wandering men whose little-known order dated back to The Death itself and perhaps even before. They wore simple clothes of brown cloth, were strict vegetarians, and carried no weapons beyond a belt knife and a wooden staff. They seldom appeared in groups and indeed were usually alone. They wandered from place to place, harming no one, occasionally doing some work for keep, teaching children their letters or watching flocks. They were skilled physicians and always ready to help the sick and injured. They hated the works of the Unclean, but sought no trouble with anyone, unless actually attacked. They had strange powers over animals, and even the Leemutes usually avoided them.
No one knew where their headquarters was, or even if they had one, nor how they were recruited or where. They seemed to be utterly apolitical, but many of the Metz politicians and even some of the Abbey hierarchs distrusted and disliked them. When pressed, such people could never say why, however, except that the Eleveners “must be hiding something.” For they were no Christians, or if they were, they concealed it well. They professed a vague pantheism, in line with their ancient (apocryphal, the Abbey scholars said) commandment: “Thou shalt not destroy the Earth nor the life thereon.”
Hiero had always liked the ones he had met, finding them merry, decent men who behaved far better than many of the self-proclaimed leaders of his own country. And he knew, too, that Abbot Demero both liked and, more important, trusted them.
He was leaning over, intent on further questions, when, with a strangled cry, Luchare sprang over almost dead coals right into his arms, knocking him flat on his back in the process.
5. ON TO THE EAST
“Look out!” she yelled. “A monster behind you! I saw it! Something black with long teeth! Get up and fight, quick!”
It had been over three weeks since he had even spoken to a woman, Hiero reflected, as he held her warm body tightly and made no effort to move. She smelled sweetly of girl, perspiration, and something else, something wild and fierce.
“That’s my bear,” he said mildly. “He’s a friend and won’t hurt you!” As he spoke, his mouth was pressed against a mass of warm, scented hair and a soft cheek. Hiero had detected Gorm some ten minutes back and sent him a mental order to stay outside the tree’s domed shelter, but the inquisitive young bear had wanted to look at the stranger.
Luchare pushed herself off him and glared down at his smiling face. “So, what they say about priests is true, eh? A bunch of lazy womanizers and sneaking skirt-lifters! Don’t get any clever ideas, priest! I can defend myself and I will, too!”
Hiero sat up and brushed himself off. Next, he carefully threw a few more twigs on the fire, so that it flared up, illuminating his copper skin and high cheekbones.
“Now, listen, young lady,” he said, “let’s get everything straight. I was the one jumped on just now, not the other way around. I’m a healthy, normal man, and regardless of what takes place down south in your peculiar-sounding country, Abbey priests have no vows of celibacy and are, in fact, usually married by my age, at least twice! However we do have rather firm rules against rape and any similar forced consent. Also, I am not in the habit of making love to children and rather think you’re about fifteen. Am I right?” As he spoke, he was patting Gorm, who had now crawled all the way in and was lying with his head in the man’s lap, peering shortsightedly at the girl across the fire.
“I’m seventeen, almost eighteen,” she said in indignant tones, “and priests aren’t supposed to go around with women; at least ours don’t. Who ever heard of a married priest?” In a lower voice, she halfway apologized. “I’m sorry, but how was I to know? You never said anything about that new animal. And how did you know he was there, anyway? I heard nothing and I have good ears.”