“So? They were the ones then.”
“Yes.”
“You will tell her yourself. You will see her soon.”
Alanna managed to conceal her sudden fear. “So?”
“Yes, Alanna. Your people are not safe here. The Tehkohn come raiding whenever they wish. Innocent Missionaries are killed. Soon, I must move you all south—where you will be safe.”
He was an animal. He was the one native about whom the Missionaries had been right!
“When?” Alanna demanded.
“Be grateful that I do not tell you. If I did, if I gave you a false time, I have no doubt that Tehkohn would appear at exactly that time. Then I would have to kill you even before I dealt with them. Now go and join your people.”
They went outside together, and for a moment stood in front of the Verrick house and watched. Garkohn hunters were driving Missionaries out of their homes. They were herding the bewildered people onto the common to be surrounded by other hunters. Hunters were already searching emptied houses. One of these last spotted Alanna and started toward her. Natahk waved him away.
“Go and appear to be one of them,” he told her. “It will help you win their trust when the need arises.”
She stiffened, spoke in flat controlled English. “They are my people. I don’t need you to tell me how to handle them.” She walked away without looking back at him.
The Missionaries had been rousted from their morning routines. Some had been driven from their homes only partially clad and more than one was wrapped in only a blanket. The Garkohn action had taken them completely by surprise. They were angry, confused, and in many cases, badly frightened people. Here and there, some of them protested to the silent stolid Garkohn, but the Garkohn ignored them unless they tried to break away from the group and return to their homes. Then they were handled with a swift efficient brutality that usually left them unconscious on the ground—and that warned their neighbors against any similar attempt. A well-trained Kohn fighter—even a low hunter—was much used to killing with his hands.
Near where Alanna stood, Garkohn-Missionary cultural differences caused a problem as five Missionary men leaped to the defense of a hysterical woman who had tried to break through the ring of Garkohn. The speed and fury of the Missionaries’ attack not only stopped the two Garkohn from beating the woman, but very nearly overcame them. Finally, the Garkohn managed to dispose of three of their attackers while the other two dragged the screaming woman back into the crowd. Other men moved to the outside of the crowd to face the approaching Garkohn, protecting their own, taking action against an attacking enemy. This was something that they could understand!
Jules Verrick reached them before Alanna did, and stood off the Garkohn in exactly the right way.
“What do you want? Will you stoop to murdering nonfighters?”
The yellower of the two Garkohn, a huntress, raised a hand to strike Jules out of the way, but her companion stopped her.
“Send out the ones who attacked us,” he ordered.
“They attacked in the defense of the nonfighter you were beating. It was their duty.”
Both Garkohn were silent for a moment, then the darker one flared angry yellow. “Your people are too much alike! Who can tell fighters from nonfighters?” He turned away with a mixture of anger and humiliation. The huntress followed.
The status of nonfighters—farmers and artisans—was in some ways similar to that of women in Missionary society. Fighters protected them, governed them, and considered it less than honorable to mistreat them. They ranged from the bright green of the highest farmers to the startlingly beautiful golden green of the artisans. Among the Garkohn, there were even artisans who descended to pure yellow. Nonfighters were the only truly beautiful people that Alanna had seen among the Kohn.
Jules turned from the retreating Garkohn and faced his people. He spoke only loud enough for those closest to him, those involved in the incident, to hear. “If we panic, we can die as uselessly, as foolishly, as the Everett brothers died last night. Yes, we lost them. They mixed into fighting between the Tehkohn and the Garkohn. They acted without thinking.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over their exclamations of shock. “We are not cowards,” he told them. “If we have to fight, we will. Only remember that we may be all that’s left of the human race, and that every time one of us dies, we decrease the chances of human survival as well as our own chances to fulfill the Mission!”
They were accustomed to obeying him, accepting his judgment. And he had invoked a powerful persuader in the Mission. They calmed and resigned themselves to staring their hostility at the Garkohn.
Then someone noticed what the Garkohn were bringing out of the houses and the calm vanished.
Several people called out, alerting the entire group to the fact that they were losing their weapons. Several more tried to break through the Garkohn circle. Abruptly, the colony was only seconds from the chaos Jules had envisioned. And Alanna thought it would take more than an inspirational speech to calm them this time. They would have to be shocked into submission.
She looked around for Natahk, saw that he had come closer to the circle. He was talking to a huntress not far from the outer fringe of Garkohn. She hurried toward him. A hunter of the circle tried to stop her, struck at her in the careless way that Garkohn reserved for slow untrained Missionaries. He appeared startled when she managed to avoid him. He tried again, not underestimating her this time, but he was simply not fast enough. She reached Natahk several steps ahead of him and Natahk stopped him and ordered him back to the circle. The huntress had just turned away from Natahk. He looked at Alanna questioningly.
He was holding what Alanna needed. She had seen it in his hand as she approached. Apparently, he had taken it from the huntress.
“Give me the gun, Natahk.”
He glanced down at the huge ancient .44 magnum revolver he held. Then he looked at her again, uncomprehending.
“Give it to me before your people have to start killing.”
He looked at the deteriorating situation on the common, saw two Missionaries beating down a hunter who, surprisingly enough, was trying not to kill them. But they were big men, strong in their own right. The hunter gave up and broke their necks.
Natahk handed the heavy gun to Alanna, all the while watching her with an intensity that she barely noticed. She fumbled with the gun for a moment, seeing that it was loaded, remembering… It had been a long time since she had last fired a gun. She had never fired one this large. But its size was a good thing. It would make plenty of noise.
Alanna went back inside the circle of Garkohn, Natahk ordering a path opened for her. She moved to the highest ground she could find, a slight rise from which all the Missionaries could see her, but where none could reach her without alerting the Garkohn. She held the gun with both hands, fired diagonally into the ground. The savage recoil sent a shock of pain through her hands, but it was worth it. She had been right about the noise. It was deafening. It got her the attention of every person on the common instantly. She used none of Jules’s diplomacy.
“We’re outnumbered,” she yelled. “Some of us are already dead. Take a look around. Then if you want to commit suicide, start fighting again.”
She stood where she was and watched them unfreeze. Watched them look numbly at each other, and at the surrounding Garkohn. Watched them become sheep again—discontented sheep, but sheep nevertheless. She closed her eyes and lowered her head so that her hair hid her face. They tried so hard to die while she was trying so hard to save them. If only they would be still until Diut opened a way of escape for them.
She was aware of Natahk coming to stand beside her. He did not startle her when he spoke.