Maybe John and Mary’s people don’t have to have their noses rubbed in blood before they can honour a stranger. I like to think so. But how do we get from here to there?
Maybe that’s my job. To lay one single brick for their house.
Only how? The Yuthoaz know perfectly well they would’ve beaten the Tenil Orugaray if the gods hadn’t taken a hand. They’re here now, by Storm’s invitation, because they make better warriors. It’s fine to call a council and set up a king. But how do we escape a kingdom made up of master and serf?
Does Storm even want to?
No! Stop that!
He had been so lost in his brown study that he was almost to the pool before he saw what was going on. And they—seven young men and a girl from the village—were so intent that they hadn’t seen him coming.
She was stretched on the boulder from which tools were cast as offerings. While his companions stood by with mistletoe in their hands, the seventh man raised a flint knife above her breast.
“What the hell!” Lockridge bellowed.
He dashed toward them. They scattered back. When they saw who he was, fear turned them less than human, they grovelled on the earth while the girl came piecemeal from her trance.
Lockridge controlled his stomach and said in his deepest voice: “By Her name, I demand confession of your misdeeds.”
He got it, in stammerings and pleadings. Some of the details were left out, but he could fill those in for himself.
“Goddess” was no good translation of the word for what She was in this culture. The Japanese kami came nearer: any supernatural being, from this rock, or the tree whose pardon one asked before felling it, to the vast vague Powers that dominated the elements. Dominated, not controlled. There was no formal theology, no separation of the magical and the divine; all things had some mystical strength. He, Lockridge, had a frightful amount. Withucar could be his friend, but that was because Withucar did not expect the magic to be unleashed against himself. Auri, less fortunate, had no one at all who felt easy in her presence.
These of the kindly Tenil Orugaray saw their country invaded by Her will. They could have escaped to Flanders or England, as some had already done, but the instinct of homeland was too deep in them. Instead, they would try to raise powers against Her. They had heard tales of human sacrifice among the inland people, and knew those inlanders were still free—
“Go home,” Lockridge said. “I call no ill down on you. I will not tell Her about this. Better times are coming. That I swear.”
They crawled off. When they had gotten some distance, they ran. Lockridge sprang into the pool and washed himself savagely.
He did not return till after sunset. The weather had thickened, a rack of clouds blew from the sea, bringing cold and an early dusk. None were abroad in the village, and skins across the doorways shut him out.
Whatever his feelings, a man must eat, and Lockridge was bumming off the house which had been Echegon’s. He walked into a stillness. Smoke stung his eyes, shadows filled the corners and crowded close around the wan flicker in the firepit. Auri’s kin sat as if waiting for him: her mother the widow, who tonight reminded him of that woman who sheltered him from Istar’s hounds; her few remaining small half brothers; her aunt and uncle, plain fisher folk who watched him out of an absolute withdrawal; their own children, some asleep, some so far grown that they were still awake to cower from him. “Where is Ami?” Lockridge asked.
Her mother pointed to a dais. Wheaten hair spilled across the deerskin blanket. “She wore herself out weeping. Must I rouse her?”
“No.” Lockridge looked from face to shut and careful face. “What is the matter?”
“Surely you know,” her mother said, without even accusing him.
“I don’t. Tell me!” The fire jumped momentarily high, so its light played over Auri’s form. She slept with thumb inside fist, like a troubled child. “I want to help,” he groped.
“Oh. Yes, you were ever her friend. But what’s best for her?” the mother appealed. “We cannot be sure. We are only earth-dwellers.”
“Nor am I more,” Lockridge said, and wished they would believe him. “Well, then. This afternoon came that Yutho chief called
Withucar and asked that she be his . . . what is their word?”
“Wife,” Lockridge said. He remembered that Withucar had three.
“Yes. His alone. A kind of slave who must do his every bidding. Yet, well, you are wiser than us, and you know this man. He said we would all come under his protection. Is that true? This house has sore need of a guardian.”
Lockridge nodded. Protection has a price, he thought, but didn’t say so.
“Auri refused him,” the mother said wearily. “He answered that the Goddess had told him he could have her. Then she grew wild, and cried out for you. We calmed her a little and sought the Long House. The Goddess saw us, after a wait, and commanded Auri to join with Withucar. But they do such things differently among the Yuthoaz. It may not be until certain rites have taken place. So we brought her home. She raved of killing herself, or taking a boat alone—that would be the same thing—but at last she slept. What do you think?”
“I will speak to the Goddess,” Lockridge said unevenly.
“Thank you. I do not know myself what is best. She would be unfree with him, but are we not unfree already? And The Storm has commanded. Yet Auri could never gladly spend her life in such narrow streams. Perhaps you can tell her it’s best.”
“Or get her released,” Lockridge said. “I will go at once.”
“Do you not first wish food?”
“No, I am not hungry.” He dropped the curtain behind him.
The village was very dark. He must fumble his way to the Long House. The Yutho sentries let him through without argument.
Inside, the globes still glowed. Storm sat alone at the control board of a psychocomputer. In this heated place she wore a vary brief tunic, but he looked upon her without desire. She turned about, laughed, and stretched. “So soon, Malcolm?
“Well, I’m tired of extrapolating trends. The data are mostly guesswork anyhow.”
“Look,” he began, “we’ve got to talk.”
Her mirth went away and she sat quite still.
“We’re goin’ about this project wrong,” he said. “I figured the original people here would get reconciled to the new arrangements. But instead, while I was away, things went from bad to worse.”
“You certainly can switch moods in a hurry,” she said, chill of tone. “Be more specific. You mean that friction between the tribes has increased. What did you expect? What am I supposed to do, disown my good Yutho allies?”
“No, just take them down a peg or two.”
“Malcolm, my dear,” Storm said more gently, “we haven’t come to build a Utopia. That’s an impossible task anyway. What we are concerned with is the creation of strength. And that means favouring those who have the potential of being strong. Before you get too self-righteous, ask if the dwellers on Eniwetok will really want to be moved, to make room for your country’s nuclear tests. We can try to minimise the pain we inflict, but someone who refuses to inflict any has no business in this world.”
Lockridge drew back his shoulders and said, “Okay, you can outargue me whenever—”
Storm rose. Her look was shameless and enchanting. “Especially in one way,” she said.
“No, wait, damn it!” Lockridge protested. “Maybe we do have to be bastards, we humans. But not without any qualification. A man’s got to stand by his friends, at least. Auri’s a friend of mine.”
Storm halted. A while she stood motionless, then ran fingers down a night-black lock and said softly, “Yes, her. I thought you’d raise the question. Go on.”
“Well, uh, well, she doesn’t want to be in Withucar’s harem.”