"What did the hillside people get from the valley?" Tim asked.
"I can't tell. Maybe free passage and the right to share-crop some fields in the valley, something like that."
"Which one should we approach?"
"Let's go straight through the valley," Kyle decided. "This road goes to that place on the valley floor."
"Does that mean they're the most important?"
"Maybe." Kyle grinned. "Maybe they just built the road."
In only a few more minutes, a flashing light caught Kyle's eye. It was reflecting the sunlight and came from the stone tower on the western slope. "We should have company soon," said Kyle.
He was surprised, though, to see that the five riders who came into view departed from the valley compound. They started at a leisurely pace on two horses and three muskylopes. As the wagon plodded toward them, however, and the gap shrank to a kilometer or so, the riders spurred to a canter.
Tim prepared their own weapons. Kyle saw that the riders had only two rifles among them. The others carried lances and wore machete-like swords in their belts.
As the riders finally came close, Kyle drew the wagon to a halt and braced the stock of his rifle casually on the seat, the barrel aimed up. So did Tim. They had this down to a routine now.
To Kyle's surprise, all the riders who reined to a halt in front of them were of the same racial stock as much of Hawaii, including themselves-Cantonese, judging by their fairly short, stocky frames, round faces, and somewhat broad noses. The northern Chinese tended to be taller than this and their skintone was too light to have originated in southeast Asia. They lacked the facial hair of Japanese men.
The first rider, a young man near their age, tried two languages before saying, "Hail, strangers," in accented English.
"Good day," Tim said carefully.
"You have business in this valley?"
"We seek passage to the northern steppe," said Tim. "No more."
All the riders bristled at this.
"What is your business on the steppe?" the chief rider demanded. "You bring them weapons?"
"No," Kyle said quickly. "We seek new land to live in, that's all. Peaceful passage."
The other four riders were now walking their mounts down each side of the wagon, surrounding it.
"I am Dafu Lei," said the chief rider. "You shall be guests in our house. Follow me." He backed his horse out of the way, not taking his eyes off them.
Kyle and Tim could only choose between complying or shooting, and the latter meant starting a fight with four enemies at their backs. On the other hand, no request had been made for their weapons. That was a good sign.
Kyle shook the reins and started the wagon forward.
Dafu Lei brought his mount into step.
"What is the name of this valley?" Kyle asked.
"This is the Guanggo Valley," said Dafu. "We are from the House of Lei, deportees from the planet Xanadu. The House of Horn is also from Xanadu. We are the only two houses in the valley."
"Who lives in the stone tower on the mountainside?"
"That is Castle MacLeod, home of Clan MacLeod. The Clans MacLeod, Munro, and Robertson live on that slope. They are from Covenant, and call their ridge the Highlands."
"What about the other side?" Kyle asked, nodding toward the wooden houses barely visible in the forest opposite.
"The Mozark Hills, they call them. The Coons, Gann, and McKay Clans live there. Deportees from Earth itself." Dafu's manner seemed to warm slightly. "We are called the Triad Clans, for the three backgrounds we have."
Tim was eyeing Dafu's mount. It was a small, sturdy brown horse. Kyle couldn't tell much else about it.
"Part Arabian, is it?" Tim asked.
"Half," said Dafu, proudly. "Half quarterhorse. She is very strong and healthy."
"Looks it," Tim said quietly.
The House of Lei was, as Kyle had seen from a distance, a small compound of several buildings with a courtyard surrounded by a high wall, all of stone. As they neared it, he was able to see that the family herded muskylopes and horses and raised some hardy, high-altitude crops.
The patriarch of the Lei Clan came out to meet them. His name was Lungho Lei. He was about fifty years old and introduced himself, in a reserved but courteous manner, as the original deportee who had begun this spread. Now he had four grown sons, of whom Dafu was the eldest, living here with their families, and several daughters. Also, some other Xanadu families of different surnames lived there under his protection, all working the land and tending the small herds.
Kyle and Tim were shown to a small unheated room in the main house and brought water for washing. The room had one window, barred with a decorative ceramic dragon sculpture fitted into the opening. There was no glass, only an inside wooden shutter. An electric lightbulb lit the room, powered by the windmill and an old generator elsewhere on the grounds.
They had been told to leave their weapons in the wagon, but had not exactly been forced to surrender them. Both brothers were more uncomfortable here than they had been in the yurts and tents of their other hosts. Their wagon was farther away from them and when the front gate was closed for the night, it was locked in and so were they. They were being watched closely.
That night, Lungho Lei hosted them at dinner in the company of his sons and the heads of the other families. From their manner and their dress, Kyle saw that this was a rather formal occasion, taking place in a modest hall that was the largest room in the compound. Guests were almost certainly rare here; those of Cantonese descent probably unheard of.
Lungho Lei's white hair was short, but he had indulged in a three-pointed white beard. He stroked it casually as he asked the brothers stories of their passage. They answered with small anecdotes, revealing as little of themselves as they could. Other members of the House of Lei spoke quietly among themselves at times but did not address Kyle and Tim directly. When dinner arrived. it was simple, but good.
Dinner was served by the grown and teenaged daughters of the community, but none of them were introduced. The young woman who served Kyle and Tim smiled at them shyly as she came and went. She was slender and pretty and Kyle found her looking at him several times when he happened to look up.
"What's your name?" he asked quietly.
"Linwah," she whispered. "Are you really from Earth itself?"
"Yes. From Hawaii."
Her eyes widened, but she hurried away, looking around her guiltily.
"So," said Lungho Lei, studying Kyle. "You have come north a very long way to reach us. You travel to the land of our enemies. Why?"
Kyle tensed. His mind went blank for an answer. The wrong response might get them killed, or at least turned back on foot without their wagon and belongings.
"We did not know they were enemies of yours," Tim said easily, landing on his feet once again. "To be honest, we seek only a safe place to settle."
"Which tribe do you seek?"
Tim shrugged, picking up a mushroom with his chopsticks. "We don't even know who the tribes are." He continued eating.
"Mongols of the Merkit, Naiman, and Mangkhol tribes predominate," Lungho Lei said quietly. "We of the Triad Clans hold the northern pass of this valley against them, as my-and your-distant ancestors once did against theirs on old Earth." He smiled. "The irony amuses me. The danger, however, is real."
"I hear," said Tim casually, "that a high, dry wind off the northern steppe has developed a high altitude desert nearby."
"It is a poor land," said Lungho Lei, nodding affirmation. "They raid us and, when they are not in evidence, we of the Triad Clans sometimes raid each other. Our feuds come and go, but they are matters within Guanggo Valley. Weapons for the Mongols are another matter, one of the outside. So are the nomads who graze to the south of us-and those who pass through their land unharmed."