The second man was lying on his horse's neck, teeth clenched; as Perkar watched, the blade dropped from his hand into the blood-spattered snow. The horse itself pranced nervously, as if unused to having no direction.
Another shaft sped past Perkar, but almost at the same moment, he heard a sharp cry from the direction of the trees. He crouched behind the quivering body of the downed horse, waiting for more attacks, but hone came, and Harka remained still and quiet.
After a moment, Ngangata emerged, cautiously, from a clump of trees. “Are there more?” he asked, eyes nervously picking through the valley.
“I don't think so. Harka?”
“No more. But there is someone else. ”
“What?” Perkar turned to Ngangata. “Harka says no more Mang, but there is someone else.”
Ngangata nodded. “Someone killed the archer.”
“Ah. I thought you did that.”
“No,” Ngangata denied.
Perkar drew a deep breath. “Come out, if you are a friend. If not, ride on.”
There was a pause, and then a stirring in the trees. The figure of a man emerged and began walking leisurely toward them.
“That, ” Harka informed him, “is not Human. ”
IV The Godsight
SHE stood beneath a leaden sky, the vastness of the River stretched before her. Those waters seemed a perfect reflection of the obscure heavens—his substance seemed dense, as if it were really polished slate or beveled steel—and it radiated a cold strength that numbed and quickened her simultaneously.
She bent closer, touched her finger to the dark water, then gasped when she saw impressions upon the surface, as if invisible objects lay pressed upon the skin of the River God. Nearest was a hollow shaped like a water scorpion, so clear that she could even make out the delicate patterning of its plated underbelly. There, a trumpet-cuttlefish, long tapering horn of its shell smooth, the tentacles and a single large eye pressed in relief And there—she gasped and looked away from the detailed mold of her cousin D'en 's face, as she had last seen it, with his eyes on stalks, like those of a crab.
Trembling, she turned from the River, but looking away, she felt less comfort than ever. Four masked priests strode toward her, grim-faced, swinging their water cans and spirit-brooms. In front of them came Yen, the young engineer who had playfully courted her, only to reveal himself as a coldhearted assassin named Ghe. Behind those five figures were a hundred others, obscured by a veil of mist, but all threatening her, all intent on locking her away. As panic whetted keen in her breast, however, she felt something cross her toes; she looked down to see what it might be.
It was a tiny snake, no bigger than a worm. It shimmered in iridescent colors, and something about it made her happy, promised to protect her from her enemies. She stooped and picked up the small reptile, and, on impulse, she swallowed it.
I have just swallowed a snake. She wondered, Now, why did I do that?
At that moment, the snake stirred in her belly. Then lightning seemed to course out into her arms. The gray waters rushed into her toes, and as she watched, the River began to drop in level, even as the worm in her grew and grew, as the greedy serpent heads that her toes had become drank and drank. The River was drying up, but it was entering her, and with a cold horror she felt the weight of his vast sentience crushing her own, squeezing her like a giants fist. But part of her was delighted ta at last have the power to destroy any who threatened her, who wished her harm…
The revulsion was stronger than the joy. Shrieking, she spit the snake out, and with it went her power, as the water flowed back into the River and returned it to its former level. But then she saw something else, a thing by a small stony cairn, and the horror began again.
Until she awoke, fingers balled into fists, wondering where she was. She sat thus for long, terrible moments as it all came back to her. A dream, a dream, a dream, she repeated to herself, but she knew it for more than that. It was really a distorted memory of what had actually happened scant months ago, when the River tried to manifest in her frail body and had very nearly succeeded. But she had escaped that, hadn't she? Escaped her curse?
She gradually understood that she was in a ben', one of the horsehide tents the Mang used for camping. She was cold, except on her left side, where the dog, Heen, lay curled against her, snoring raspily. Nearby, Brother Horse snuffled out a harmony to the canine's tuneless song. Earlier, Hezhi had found these noises distracting; now they comforted her, for they were Human, mundane.
But she was in danger again, as certainly as Heen was a dog. And Brother Horse knew it. He had forced camp before they had gone half a league beyond the cairn where she saw…
Tomorrow he would explain. Tomorrow.
She lay back, her breathing growing calmer, but sleep did not return to her that night.
HEZHI drew her knees up beneath her chin as she watched the colorful riders enter the village, listened to their raucous shouts. The half Giant sitting next to her stirred restlessly, shifting a frame easily twice as massive as that of any Human as he braided and unbraided fingers like fat sausages into a double fist resting against his thick-featured face. The knotted hand hid a scowl, and she could imagine she heard his teeth grinding.
“Princess …” the Giant began, but Hezhi shook her head.
“Hush, Tsem,” she said. “Watch the riders. I want to write Ghan about this.”
“I've seen plenty of these barbarians enter the camp in the past few days,” Tsem grumbled. “I've had little else to do.”
“That isn't what Tiin tells me,” Hezhi answered, glancing sidewise at the half Giant.
Tsem blushed almost purple. “One has to do something to pass the time,” he mumbled. ”I can't hunt, horses groan beneath my weight—”
“But at least you can entertain the unmarried women,” Hezhi finished. “Just as in Nhoi.” She sharpened her glance. “Unmarried, Tsem. These people are not as forgiving in their policies toward adultery as those you are accustomed to.”
Tsem scrunched his face in mock concern, bushy eyebrows steepling like mountain ridges. “What might the penalty be?” he asked.
“You know Barks-Like-a-Dog?”
“The old man with no nose?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh. Oh! ” Tsem's face fell into lines of real dismay.
“So take care,” she cautioned.
“I can do that,” Tsem replied. “I'm glad you told me.”
“This isn't Nhol, Tsem. Don't ever think it is. Nothing we know will serve us out here.”
Tsem snorted. “People are people, Princess. Much of what I know serves me wherever I go.”
Hezhi started at the bitterness in that. It was rare for Tsem to display such acrimony.
“What is troubling you, Tsem?”
As they spoke, thirty warriors thundered around the village, shrieking like demons. Each bore a long, colorful streamer knotted to a lance, and the result was breathtaking, barbaric, a cyclone of color. Unmarried girls dodged in and out among the surging mounts, snatching at the streamers, while younger children jostled alongside, jangling strings of bells and clapping wooden noisemakers together. The din was impressive.
Tsem was silent, pretending to watch the spectacle; Hezhi prodded him with her toe, then kicked him when he did not respond. He turned on her, flashing knuckle-size teeth in a dangerous-looking scowl, and she was again taken aback by the anger in his reply.