“I accept the apology,” the priest said. “And I might as well interrupt your story briefly and spell out a few more things, since we’re apparently going to be traveling together for some time, until I can figure out what to do with you. Does anyone in your country have the ability to speak with his mind? That is, send silent thoughts, so that without using his, or her, voice, another person or perhaps an animal can understand him?”
Luchare drew back, lips parted slightly, her dark brown skin reflecting the firelight in soft, shadowed movements.
“The Unclean, the evil monsters from the days of The Death, are said to do this thing,” she said slowly. “And there are many rumors, which I know now to be true, that they are ruled by the most wicked of men, horrible sorcerers, who also have this power. An old church priest who taught me my lessons, a good man, said that such powers of the mind might not themselves be evil in theory, but that in actual practice only the Unclean and their devils seemed to know how to make use of them.” Her eyes brightened suddenly, “I see! You knew the animal was out there by thinking to him! But you are not one of the—” Her voice failed as she realized that she might be in the presence of one of the nightmares of her childhood, a wizard of the diabolic enemy!
Hiero smiled cheerfully. “Unclean? No, Luchare, I’m not. And neither is Gorm here.” Gorm, go over slowly, lie down, and put your head in her lap. She has (never) seen a bear (I think?) or believed (been taught) in thought/speech/mind sending. We’ll (have to) teach her, like a cub.
The slim, dark brown girl sat, frozen, as the small bear ambled over and did as he had been directed. But when a long, pink tongue came out and gently licked her hand, she relaxed a little.
“You—you told him to do that, didn’t you?” she said in a shaky voice. “You really can talk to him, just as you do to me?”
“Not as easily, no. But he’s very clever; in fact, I’m not sure exactly how clever he is. He’s really something almost as new to me as to you, and we’ve only been together a week. Now Klootz, my bull morse, the big fellow outside, has been my partner for years. I can talk to him easily, but he’s nowhere near as clever as Gorm here. Still, he fools me at times too, and just when I think I know the limits of his brain, he tries something brand new and surprises me.”
“Gorm,” she said softly, stroking the furry, black head. “Will you be my friend, Gorm?”
“He’ll be your friend, don’t worry,” Hiero said. “And he’s also a very effective guide and scout. But now please be quiet for a few moments. I want to ask him how he got here. We parted when I went clumping out in the open to pick you up.” He leaned forward and concentrated on Gorm’s mind.
The bear, it seemed, had drawn back behind the rocky point as soon as he had seen where Klootz was heading. He had tried to make mental contact with the departing priest, but realized that it would be hopeless in all the confusion. He had, however, picked up other telepathic minds, not Hiero’s, although he could not make out what message they were sending.
I think that was our enemies (who were) trying to get people to hunt/stop/attack us from in front, Hiero sent. How did you/Gorm smell/find (us)?
Easy/cub/trick, came the answer. Went (back from) big water, walked along—came down to big water—smelled—went back-swam small water above men’s houses—came down (again), followed and smelled your trail.
By that time, Gorm had come to the hut village of the white savages, most of whom were back from their bird arena and were milling around and all making a fearful racket in the night. He had watched for a while and then, seeing that the villagers had a large pack of yelping dogs, he had quietly swum the little river and gone on east, returning to the beach to pick up Klootz’s tracks and then simply following them until he found their present camp.
The priest decided that pursuit that night sounded very unlikely and that they could relax and trust Klootz and the bear to warn them. Settling himself once again, he recommenced questioning Luchare where he had left off.
“The Elevener? Why, he looked like anyone else, an ordinary man of my people, perhaps fifty or so years old, except for those drab, brown clothes. Why?”
“That’s very interesting,” Hiero said. “In your country, it’s obvious, the people are all as dark-skinned as you and have that curly hair and those dark, dark eyes, right?”
“Of course. Why? Until I ran away, I never saw anyone of another color, except once or twice a white-skinned slave from the North, from around here, I guess. But the few Eleveners I’ve seen have all been of my own people.”
“Well,” the man said thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the tiny fire, “up my way, they all look like my people, that is, with bronze or the Inyan reddish skin, straight black hair, high cheekbones, and so on. Which, I think, tells us something interesting about the Eleveners that the Abbeys hadn’t known before. Now, before you go on with your own story, tell me one more thing about them. In our areas, they carry no weapons, teach children in school, serve as animal doctors, work on farms, eat no meat, and never take any pay, except mere subsistence. Also, they hate the Unclean, but never seem to do much about fighting them. Is all that true down in D’alwah?”
“Yes, I think so,” she said. “The church doesn’t care much for them, but the poor people get very angry when there’s any talk of bothering them, so they’re generally let alone. You see,” she added naively, “the peasants have so much to get angry about as it is, why stir them up over something that makes no real difference? That’s what my—a teacher I knew told me. They don’t really mean anything one way or the other, just like the Davids.”
“Who are the Davids?” Hiero asked.
“Oh, a funny group of traders who call themselves People of David, who live in our big city and in some of the others, I guess. They actually don’t believe in the church, they won’t eat lots of ordinary things, and they don’t marry anyone but another David. But no one bothers them either, because they pay their taxes promptly and always trade honestly. Also, they can fight like wildcats if anyone tries to molest either them or their church. They have a funny one with no cross and no Dead God at all, and at school once, one of them told me it’s much older than ours! They’re really peculiar!”
“Humph,” Hiero grunted, thinking, at school, eh? and trying to assimilate all he had learned. “Must be an odd heresy of some ancient kind we never got up our way. The last one in Kanda, a group called Prostan, I believe, reunited with our church over two thousand years ago. Since then, it’s all been one Church Universal. You certainly have a lot of strange survivals in the far South. But go on with your own story now, and I’ll try not to interrupt.”
He fed the wee fire to provide a light, and as the faintest haze of smoke rose to the highest level of shiny leaves under the round dome of the tent-tree, the girl talked on, her matter-of-fact tones seeming to emphasize her extraordinary story. Hiero had lived through many strange adventures, including the most recent ones, but he was spellbound just the same. The bear lay dozing, head in her lap.
The Elevener, a quiet, elderly man, had set Luchare’s leg and helped carry her to a shelter. He had then gone away, but soon had come back with a large draft animal, something like Klootz, apparently, but striped and light in color, with short, straight horns, which stayed on all year, unlike antlers. It was commonly called a kaw. Both of them had ridden the kaw away on a trail to the northwest. The Elevener, whose name was Jone, had told the girl that he was going to try and take her to a place of safety run by his order, but that it was a long way off and that they would have to be very careful. He had asked no questions of her at all.