Kafra: the strange god whose image was first brought up the Meloderna valley centuries ago, and who, with his love of beauty and riches, quickly stole the souls of citizens of Broken away from the pragmatic tenets of the old Moon faith — and so changed the very basis of their lives. But we must speak more of Kafra soon; and it will sicken me enough then.…
Nimble as ever, the three foragers prepare to cross the bridge, not so much alarmed as amused by the crashing waters below it. Their escape from the panther, the thought of enjoying a meal suitable for the wealthiest of the Tall (and above all stirring trouble in the otherwise peaceful night), combine to make them increasingly boisterous. As soon as they have mounted the bridge, they boast of how they will knock one another from it, and play at doing so, the two men finally able to shout all they want: for between the rocky banks, the roar of the river overwhelms the sound of their voices.
It would require something dire to put an end to their games; but such sinister signs are precisely what Keera has a gift for detecting. As she puts her nose to the light breeze, her body goes taut; and then, with a quick wave of her maple staff, she once more silences her companions.
“What now?” Heldo-Bah whispers. “Not that cat—”
“Silence!” Keera hisses. Then, at a run, she leaps back off the bridge, and begins to search the rocky ground on the southern bank of the river, following an unmistakable scent:
“Someone has died,” Veloc announces, following his sister.
“Aye,” Heldo-Bah noises. “And been left to rot …”
Within moments, the three are upon the remains of a young man of Broken. Once he had been as tall and well formed as any; now, he is a rotting carcass, from whose ribs protrude several beautifully crafted arrows: shafts of wood overlain with gold leaf, flights made of Davon eagle feathers, and heads of fearsome silver.
“This must be the fellow.” Veloc’s voice betrays some small measure of sympathy, although the rotting man would likely have spat on the Bane forager, had the two ever crossed paths. “The one who was slain in the ritual you spoke of, Heldo-Bah. He’s scarcely more than a boy …”
Heldo-Bah grunts, repelled: “Look at the arrows — Moon strike me dead if they did not come from the Sacristy of the city’s High Temple.”
Keera nods agreement; yet her face betrays more complex suspicions. “But there has been no mutilation — his head, arms, and legs are all intact. And they killed him on our side of the river — why?” She moves a few steps closer, still puzzling with the sight. “And what of scavengers? The body has not been disturbed; yet wolves and bears should have strewn it over this part of the Wood. What could—”
She stops suddenly, her face wrinkling up with some newly detected aroma that makes her immediately retrace her steps. “Keep back!” she orders, holding her torch higher. “His flesh is not merely rotting — it is diseased. Even scavengers would sense as much — it’s why they have not touched it.”
“Well, then,” Veloc muses, moving away from the remains. “They killed him because he was sickly. They’ve done it many times before.”
“But it makes no sense,” Keera insists, strangely alarmed. “Look at him — there is nothing to suggest that he was anything but a perfect young man of Broken. Tall, well formed, no lameness in the bones of his limbs, a good skull … And they slew him on this very spot, whereas the sickly have always been simply abandoned to the Wood — the ritual they call the mang-bana.”†
“A criminal?” Heldo-Bah wonders. “No — no, you’re right, Keera, there’s no mutilation. A criminal would have suffered some such.”
“We must find out the meaning in this death,” Keera announces.
“And who may we ask?” Veloc betrays nervousness at his sister’s determination. “We are foragers, Keera, raiding for decent meat — shall we inquire of Lord Baster-kin’s Guard what took place here?”
Keera’s purposeful manner never weakens: “If we must, Veloc.”
Heldo-Bah smiles wide, revealing the black gap in his teeth. “So — this night promises amusement! Not only poaching, but capturing one of the Merchant Lord’s soldiers, too.…”
Keera looks at the dead man once more. “There is nothing amusing in this, Heldo-Bah. This is the worst eviclass="underline" that made by men, be it sorcery or mere murder.”
“Then it calls for evil in return, does it not?” Loosening the straps that hold his deerskin sack on his shoulders, Heldo-Bah moves back toward the Fallen Bridge. “We leave our goods here — take only weapons.” Planting his torch in the ground, Heldo-Bah nimbly clambers to a high maple branch, and ties his sack to it. “Keep everything above the ground — I don’t want scavengers destroying three weeks† of work.”
Veloc cannot conceal satisfaction of his own at the party’s new mission — but he is vexed about his sister, as well. Alone of the party, Keera has a family awaiting her return to the Bane village of Okot, which is a full day’s run to the southeast, even for these three. The handsome Bane approaches her confidentially, while Heldo-Bah is busy.
“Keera,” Veloc murmurs, placing his hands on her shoulders, “I believe you are right about what we must do — but why not let Heldo-Bah and me attend to it, while you wait here? After all, if we meet with misfortune, no one will weep for us — but Tayo‡ and the children need you to return to them. And I pledged that you would.”
Keera, though touched by her brother’s words, frowns a bit at this news. “And what right had you to pledge my return, Veloc?”
“True,” Veloc says, his manner growing contrite. “But I bear the responsibility for your being here — your own children know it.”
“Don’t be foolish, brother — what was I to do? Allow those Outragers to beat you both senseless, simply because they enjoy the favor of the new Moon priestess? No, Veloc. Tayo and the children know the injustice of this term of foraging — and the best thing that I can do for them is to learn if what has taken place here endangers our tribe.”
Veloc shrugs, knowing that the guilt he already feels for Keera’s punishment by the Groba will become unbearable, should some mishap befall her now. Having long ago learned not to argue important matters with his wise and gifted sister, however, he begins to climb into an oak that stands near Heldo-Bah’s maple. “Very well — hand me your bag. Heldo-Bah is right, we must travel light, if we are to do as you wish.”
“I do not wish it,” Keera says, loosening the straps of her sack. “I could wish we had not discovered this nightmare. For you are wrong, Heldo-Bah.”
“Undoubtedly,” the sharp-toothed Bane replies as a matter of course from above. “But what, pray, am I wrong about on this occasion, Keera?”
“You said that evil calls for evil.”
“You think it does not?”
“I know it does not,” Keera says, handing her sack up. “Evil breeds evil — spreads it like fire. It parches men’s souls, just as the Sun burns the skin. Had you paid attention to the basic tenets of our faith, you’d know that this was how the first Moon priests determined that all devils spring from that same Sun, while the Moon, by night, reminds each human heart of its solitary, humble place in the world, and so fills it with compassion. But we will find no compassion across the river — no, we are walking into evil, I fear. So both of you, please — try not to fall into the trap that evil has set for us.” The Bane men stare at her in confusion. “No killing,” Keera clarifies. “Unless absolutely necessary.”