Climate of Change (15 page)

Now Keeper spoke. “We discussed this with Hero and Craft. They agreed that we could not match the Others in a physical contest with even numbers. But they said the Others are stupid about planning ahead, and that's where we can prevail.”

“Plan all you want to,” Harbinger said. “But two men and two women can't match three Other men.”

“It may not be easy, but with the right tactics, we should be able to do it,” Keeper insisted.

But it was plain that Harbinger was not convinced. Neither was Crenelle.

“I think we'll have to show them,” Rebel said. “Harbinger, how far can you throw a spear?”

“Accurately? To that rock.” The man indicated a stone several paces distant.

“And how far can an Other man throw?”

“To
that
rock.” Harbinger indicated one several paces farther. There was a steep dirt bank beside it. “So we would be dead before we could hope to score.”

Keeper stood. He picked up his spear, together with a stick about half the length of the spear. He held the stick beside the spear, as if preparing to throw the two of them together. “The bank, not the rock,” he said. “I don't want to ruin a good spear.” He took careful aim, and hurled them at the farther bank.

The stick unfolded and dropped down, not flying. But the spear sailed for the bank, and scored on it at about a man's chest height. The point was embedded in the dirt; it was a good hard throw.

Harbinger's jaw dropped. “You are smaller than I am, and less muscular. How can you do that?”

Keeper held up the short stick. “This is a spear-thrower my brother Craft made. He learned it from another craftsman. He taught me and Rebel how to use it, so that we would be the equals of those who are of stouter physique than we are. It enables us to throw a spear significantly farther than we could otherwise, because it has the effect of
extending the arm. Of course we had to practice; it takes time to master the technique.” He paused, glancing sidelong at Harbinger. “Do you think this will help against the Others?”

Harbinger remained amazed. “It might. Can—?”

Rebel stepped up with her spear and throwing stick. She hurled the spear at the same bank. It struck lower, and with less force than her brother's had, but still would have hit and injured a man at that range. The thrower gave her power no woman could otherwise muster.

“Could I. . .?”

Rebel handed him her stick, while Keeper went to recover the two spears. “You will need some help to manage it, the first time.”

“I don't need help!”

“As you wish.” She watched as he took his spear from Keeper and tried to fit it to the throwing stick. It didn't work; the spear and stick fell apart immediately.

“This doesn't—”

She smiled. “Because your spear isn't made for it. Try mine. It has a hole for the hook.”

Harbinger shut his mouth and let her exchange spears, and fit the hook on the end of the throwing stick into the depression in the end of the spear. Then she showed him how to grip the two together, and make a special hurling motion that allowed the stick to extend the reach of the arm double and add force to the throw. She stood close before him, guiding his right hand with her left, gratified by his confusion of manner and gaze. She was still naked.

He tried it. The spear missed the bank and plowed into the ground.

“I prefer the old way,” he said, disgruntled.

“It does take time,” Keeper agreed. “We put many spears into the ground before we got the hang of it. We hope that this will make us both competent to help in the campaign.”

“What campaign?” Harbinger asked.

“The one to secure this good region for us. To drive the Others away.”

“You two may be able to throw your spears well, but that doesn't make us a match for three Other men.”

“You forget the dogs,” Rebel said. “They will attack the Others, on Keeper's command.”

Harbinger was surprised again. “They will?”

Rebel smiled and dragged a small log to lie before the nearer rock. Then she stepped back.

Keeper touched the lead dog, Brownback. He pointed at the log. “Attack!”

All three dogs charged for the log, growling and biting savagely at it.

“Quit!” Keeper called.

The dogs left off the attack, and returned to him, their tails wagging.

Harbinger nodded. “This becomes impressive.”

“One other thing,” Keeper said. He turned to Rebel. “Rebel, if you would.”

She smiled. She took up her spear and made a threatening motion toward the dogs. They immediately growled and scattered.

“They know the danger!” Crenelle said, surprised.

“Yes. I don't like my animals getting hurt.”

“Truly impressive,” Harbinger said.

“If you marry me,” Rebel said, “my brother will train some dogs for you, who will obey your commands and no others.” She set down the spear, and Brownback returned to her for stroking.

“But you will not be raped.”

“Indeed I will not,” she agreed. “But there may be a way, if you are interested.”

“I am interested. You are a fine-looking woman. But—”

“But there is a catch,” she said. “I am barren.”

He stared at her. “Impossible!”

Rebel returned to sit by the fire, and the others settled down around it, letting her handle this her own way. She was privately pleased that he could not believe that a body like hers could be infertile. “Do you really wish to know?”

Harbinger nodded. “You rejected me before, and I stayed clear of you, because if I raped you, you would hate me and try to maim or kill me. Now you return and tell me you wish to marry me, but will not be
raped, and are barren. You parade naked before me, inciting my lust. I doubt I will ever see a more desirable woman than you are at this moment. If you are angry with me, and wish to make me suffer, you are succeeding. I would take you this moment, if you told me you truly wanted it. You wouldn't even have to resist, as long as you didn't cooperate. But I fear you want me to try, and you will sweep up a knife and try to gut me, because I gave you a pretext. So I can't touch you or trust you. But I admit you are torturing me, and I want to know why.”

There was the ring of sincerity to his words. She liked him better than ever. But she had to tell him the truth. “Then hear this: I was angry with you before, because you raped my sister Haven. But she never condemned you, and I think would have stayed with you, had her baby lived. As I came to know you, I understood about the rape; it is your way. Apart from that you are a good man, worthy of marriage. But just as you will not marry without rape, I will not submit to it.”

She took a breath. Now came the hard part. “Part of the reason I refuse to be raped is that I thought I would never marry. Because no man would want me. So I made a thing of it, pretending that it was I who was refusing to be dominated by a man. But as I came to know you, I came to like you. To want to marry you. That is why I am preparing for the pain of being rejected by you. Because I am indeed barren. I know it. I have tried with more men than I can name, more times than I can count, more ways than I can remember. I can get any man I choose to have sex with me, and he will not leave off until I tell him to, being endlessly potent, though he cry for mercy. I confess I enjoyed showing my power over men at an early age. Before I had breasts I could get men into me, when I tried. After I got breasts I didn't even have to try. At first I feared getting a baby in my belly; then I thought I deserved it, for being wanton, and would have to marry whichever man put it into me. But at last I realized that no man could put a baby into me. It would have happened by now, if it were possible. I am eighteen, and have been doing it since I was ten, with grown men as well as youths. Most of them have fathered children elsewhere. So I am barren, and if you marry me, you will never have children. I will never remain home and passive; I will be out helping you explore and hunt, in my fashion.
That is the punishment the spirits will visit on you for taking your pleasures with the likes of me.”

She took another breath, and stroked Brownback. Harbinger was immobile. “So if you will not marry me, I will understand. In that case you can have me without rape, knowing it is not marriage, by your definition, and in due course we will part company, as has already happened twice with my brothers and your sister.” She cupped her breasts, then stroked her spread thighs, once more calling his attention to her assets. “Everything is as good as it looks, and I am no timid child. I have not shown you this merely to tease you; I will deliver in full measure. I will wear you out in a manner my sister could not. When we sleep, I will wake you with passion. When I am bored, as I often am, I will turn to you for something novel. When we go out on a hunt, I will give you silent sex while we lie in wait for an animal. It will never be dull. But if you still wish to marry me, we shall have to address the matter of how it can be possible, given our incompatible strictures about the initiation of it.” Now she was done.

There was a silence. Crenelle and Keeper stayed well out of it, though Rebel could see by the way they both fidgeted that her discussion had turned them on. She feared she had turned Harbinger off, however, and she truly regretted it, because she really did like him. But she couldn't marry him on a false pretense. He had to know the price of the joy she would bring him. He had to know just how aggressive she was, in sex and other things. That had already driven away a number of otherwise amenable men.

At last Harbinger spoke. “If there were deaths elsewhere, orphaning children, would you adopt them?”

She had never thought of that. She
could
have a family, by such means. He had come up with the answer. In so doing, he was agreeing tacitly to marry her, when it could be arranged.

“Yes.” And she had similarly agreed to marry him.

There was another silence. The decision had been made, but they still didn't know how to accomplish it.

“I think you could kiss him,” Crenelle said. “As long as he doesn't touch you.” Keeper nodded agreement.

“How can I kiss him without touching him?”

“Like this.” Crenelle shifted her position. Then she leaned over and kissed Keeper, with no more than their mouths touching. He was so surprised he froze, which helped make it work. Crenelle completed her kiss and resumed her former position, looking a bit smug. “You touch him, not he you.”

Good idea. Rebel got up, went around to Harbinger, bent down, and kissed him languorously on the mouth. They did not embrace.

Then she fetched her cloak and donned it, concealing her body. The time for temptation was past. “Now we must plan the campaign,” she said briskly, glancing at her brother.

Keeper nodded, coming out of his trance, and began speaking, describing the strategy Craft had instilled in him. And slowly Harbinger's doubt converted to agreement.

That night the men slept on one side, the women on the other, with Keeper and Rebel adjacent. Neither Harbinger nor Rebel wanted any misunderstanding in the darkness, and though it was evident that Keeper found Crenelle highly intriguing, the woman was just as evidently less interested. She had vamped him on general principle, but had now turned off the glimpses. He just wasn't enough of a man for her. That was too bad, because Keeper was sensitive and loyal and competent with animals and plants, a good man for any woman.

In the morning they completed their preparations and went out on the campaign. The women bound up their hair and smeared dirt on their faces, trying to make themselves look more masculine, because the Others would not fight women. That did not mean they had no use for them, but the use was not kind. A straight fast death was preferable.

They took bolos, which were thongs weighted with solid bones, and one spear each. Then they set out for the nearby beest pasture, without the men. They used the second boat that was normally tied on the other side of the island, kept in reserve. They landed where Crenelle indicated, and hid the boat in bushes. The rest of this mission would be on foot.

In due course they reached the pasture, where a fair herd of beests was grazing. The beests paid them little attention, knowing the
difference between human beings and Others. Only the Others had hunted them hitherto.

They selected a suitable calf who had strayed a bit too far from its dam. They walked slowly toward it, so as not to spook it prematurely. Its ears twitched; it was aware of them, but not yet concerned enough to leave its good grazing patch.

They went into confusion mode: they separated, and when the beest turned its head toward one, the other advanced. The motion was always at the fringe its vision. In that manner they were able to get within bola range.

Finally the beest spooked. But as it leaped to join its dam and the herd, Rebel threw her bola. Her aim was good, and the three weighted cords wrapped around the beest's hind legs, entangling them and bringing it down. It struggled and kicked, and the bola dropped away—but then Crenelle hurled her bola, entangling it again.

By the time it got free of the second bola, they were upon it, thrusting with their spears. It squealed as Crenelle stabbed it in the haunch, but the sound cut off as Rebel got it in the throat. It kicked wildly, thrashed its head about, bled copiously, and died.

Meanwhile the herd spooked, and charged away from there. Rebel knew that would alert the Others, who understood the habits of animals. She felt a cold chill, but had confidence in their plan. They recovered their bolas and tied them to their waists.

“We make pretty good hunters,” Crenelle said with satisfaction as they drew their knives for the butchering. “I hope you do marry my brother.”

“I have something in mind,” Rebel said. “Are you interested in Keeper?” She knew the answer, but wanted to promote her brother's case, because Crenelle would make a good wife for him.