The orcs had a pinnace, with weapons and a supply of ammunition. Nils had gathered a substantial picture of what could be done with them. And with a combination of questioning, telepathy, psychology and pain, the orcs would soon know how to use them. Then they’d be able to: (1) attack and harass the People; (2) prevent effective cattle raids; and (3) scatter the herds the People had already gathered. They could force the clans to disperse and leave the country. Furthermore, if they could coerce the star people to provide additional ammunition, which was likely, they might well try again to seize Europe, using extortion, war, and potential allies among short-sighted, opportunistic feudal lords.
The best chance of preventing this, perhaps the only chance, was to get control of the Beta. If they could recapture Alpha with it, success would be almost assured. But just getting Beta would improve the odds. When the time came they’d attempt it by holding Nikko hostage. The star people seemed psychologically unable to retaliate by harming Ilse. He had advised Kniv, and Axel Stornave, not to give the star woman up if she decided after all to go back to the ship.
Now he would try to find where Alpha was kept.
Sten stepped back and grinned at Nils’s newly bald head. “There! It’s done. And without drawing too much blood. It’ll be a long time before it grows out enough to braid again.” He folded the razor and put it in his pouch. “Are you sure you don’t want a man or two beside you in this? That crazy Trollsverd would cut his hair for the chance, maybe even his throat. And if you talked hard enough you might get me to go.”
Nils grinned back at him. “Fighting isn’t the purpose of this trip, and one Northman is hard enough to conceal among foreigners. Two or three would be impossible. Besides, you speak Anglic; I want you to keep Nikko happy. Answer her questions, talk freely, tell her your travels. She’ll be learning, which is her purpose, and more content to stay, which means the star people will be less angry at us when the time comes. Talk to Ulf about having her take meals with your family. Once they know her, Signe and Hild won’t be jealous when you spend time with her, especially if it’s with them by their own fire.”
The two warriors shook hands then, untied their reins from the hazel bushes, and swung onto their horses. Sten turned back toward the encampment. Nils rode south.
XIII
Psionicists regard Ilse as the human cornerstone of psionics in the new renaissance. Her students remember and revere her as the calm, charismatic, and knowing listener who helped them find new dimensions within and outside themselves. Sean O’Niall insists that, in other times and circumstances, a new religion would have grown up around her memory, and indeed one might wonder if one hasn’t. Increasingly, philosophers recognize her as a major cultural transmuter, one whose unique insights and influence are moving mankind a step farther toward what we will become.
It is interesting to consider that she was a very primitive young woman on a primitive and often violent world. The neoviking composer of the Jarnhann Saga, in one of the occasional departures from his usual meter that provide a parenthetical quality, gives us a sharp clear image of the young Ilse in action while describing her capture by horse barbarians in Germany. He may well have exercised his culturally conditioned imagination, but the characterization seems basically correct. Here is the original, for those who can read it, along with Professor Kumalo’s faithful translation.
D’ dojtsa haxen kaste ned bojen, napte bagen uppa spennte senan, onar stadi, pilan vjentanne ma faadi dojn.
[The German seeress threw aside her bucket, quickly took her bow and drew the string taut, cool eyes steady, arrow waiting then with ready death.]
From ROOTS OF THE NEW MOVEMENT, by Mei-Ti Lomasetewa
XIV
Dr. Celia Uithoudt stepped into the little cabin.
“Ram?”
“What?” He responded without looking away from the tape screen.
She looked at her husband thoughtfully before continuing. “Did you read my mind just now?”
“You know I can’t do that at will.” He turned to her. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you sound grumpy-like a refusal waiting for a request. I thought maybe you knew I was going to ask you to do something.”
“I guess maybe I did. Do what?”
“Talk to Ilse.”
“What point is there in that?”
“Courtesy, if nothing else.” For those four words her tone had sharpened. Now it softened again, but the words were candid. “Ram, you should know what the point is without being told. With Matt gone, you’ve undertaken to direct the off-ship activities as well as the ship itself. And Alex is willing to let you, even though he was Matt’s second, because he’s not the command type and doesn’t feel up to the circumstances. And because you’re willing and he has respect for your… ”
“And you don’t like the way I’m handling things,” Ram interrupted roughly. “Maybe you ought to try it.”
“Let me finish talking, you sarcastic bully!” Her burst of open anger startled Ram, even shocked him. She seldom argued, rarely criticized bluntly, and he’d never seen her blow up before. He respected and appreciated her patience even more than her intelligence. To have broken that patience alerted him to how badly the situation had affected his frame of mind.
At a deeper level she had jabbed a hidden sore of self-distaste. He sometimes did use sarcasm to bully her, and despised this trait of his.
“Sorry, Cele,” he said quietly. “I’ll listen.”
She stood uncomfortably for a wordless moment, her anger gone. “If you’re going to make the decisions,” she said at last, “you need to know as much as possible about the people and circumstances you’re dealing with. And Ilse is a storehouse of information. She may seem like a primitive-I guess she is, in one sense of the word-but she’s from a pretty wise culture. The Kinfolk have kept alive quite a bit of the old knowledge. They’re scattered throughout feudal Europe and keep one another more or less informed of what goes on there. They’re sophisticated politically and they’ve been influencing feudal politics and culture for generations, so they have a lot better feel for intrigue and conflict than we do. They’ve retained a lot of twenty-first-century objectivism and rationalism, too, and on top of that she’s learned a lot about the Northmen and at least something about the orcs.
“Besides, with your occasional periods of telepathic sensitivity, you might find it interesting to know a trained and highly functional telepath.”
“You’re right,” he said. “And I will talk to her. I guess I let my frustrations get me down.”
She bent and kissed her seated husband on the forehead.
“I’ve never seen you so impressed by anyone before,” he went on. “Certainly not on just a few days’ acquaintance.”
“Don’t let the greasy deerskin breeches mislead you,” Celia said. “Besides, I’ve had some things sewn together for her, a bit lighter and easier to clean. She’s too pregnant for any of our jumpsuits.
“You’ll be impressed with her too, I promise. She’s not only highly intelligent and magnetic, but she seems so, so integrated. When I talk with her I feel positively-outclassed-and you know inferiority isn’t part of my self image.”
Ram shook his head.
“Listen, Cele,” he said. “For whatever it’s worth, I apologize for being such a lout. Introduce me to Ilse. I’ve barely met her, and I need you to start me out. I hope she’s used to people that run off at the mind. I can usually control my mouth, but… ”
Cele had been right: magnetic was the word. And striking, almost handsome. On New Home, with its centuries of racial blending, her honey-blond hair and high color would have drawn immediate attention. But her real impact was of strength and composure. Even advanced pregnancy failed to make her seem weak or vulnerable. Yet she was very much a woman-swollen but physically attractive. And the sense of presence she radiated had affected Ram before she’d said a word.