Climate of Change (43 page)

Crenelle was concerned. “Is she ill?”

“I don't think so. Some special quality of character, perhaps.”

“The daughter of a high chief is apt to be imperious. This we can endure, for she brings protection to all of us.”

Keeper remained uncertain. “Would a chief notice such a quality in his child?”

“Maybe not. But whatever it is, we shall accommodate.”

He nodded. They would
have
to accommodate. “Now we must tell Haven.”

They did not need to wake Haven, who was completing preparations for fleeing the house; she showed up after giving them time to talk alone. Now it was her turn. She was relieved and intrigued by the news. But she had a question: “What of the temple guards?” For her husband Harbinger, and their brother Hero, were both palace guards.

Keeper shook his head. “They will be overwhelmed. The war is lost. Further fighting is pointless. We should bring them in.”

“They won't desert their posts.”

That was a problem. “I will talk to them before they go out,” Keeper said. For the two men were at home, sleeping now; they were on the day shift.

Haven hugged him, then returned to her chamber. She had more confidence in him than he had in himself; he doubted that he could persuade his brother and brother-in-law to remain home in the palace's hour of need.

They settled down to sleep. Keeper thought Crenelle would be too stressed for passion, but she practically climbed on him, kissing and caressing. He was in her, and climaxing, and out of her almost before he knew it. Then she was sleeping against him, as if all were well. She too evidently had more confidence in him than was warranted.

They did not sleep long, for dawn was nigh, but the brief relaxation helped. Then they ate breadnut cakes, drank deeply of their sweet spring, and waited for what would come.

Hero and Harbinger got up and dressed, preparing for duty. Keeper intercepted them. “You must not go out today.”

“Why not?” They knew, of course; Haven had acquainted them.

“The Toltec army will be investing the city today. They will slaughter all opposition. This house alone has protection.”

“We must protect the palace,” Hero said, touching his claw-knife.

“You can't protect the palace. Their force is overwhelming, and they will destroy all opposition. You must hide here, and give loyalty to the commander when he comes here.”

Hero shook his head. “We are not ones to hide at the first sign of danger. Did you do so yesterday?”

“No.” And that finished his argument. “Then let me go with you.”

Hero considered. “How would that change anything?”

“Maybe I can still persuade you.”

Both men shrugged.

They left the house together, following one of the raised causeways that connected the main groups of buildings. The old causeways were oriented east and west, while the newer ones were at the prescribed angle determined by the priests. Craft was the one who understood such orientation. Hero and Harbinger hardly cared; they merely protected what was there. The three of them crossed the central plaza. Large platforms surrounded the main city, and the most prominent buildings were here. The temple for Itzamná was here, normally active with priests and worshipers. But this morning it was quiet.

“Where are the priests?” Harbinger asked.

“Where do you think?” Keeper responded. “They know they'll be slaughtered, so they have gone.”

They walked on to the palace to the south. This, too, was deserted. “How can we guard it, if there's nothing here to guard?” Harbinger asked.

“You can't,” Keeper said. “All you can do is offer yourselves as sacrifices to the memory of the faithless priests who have fled.”

They checked the residential quarters of the priests. They were empty.

“You're right,” Hero said. “This is pointless.”

“You can return after the Toltecs have restored city function,” Keeper suggested. “They may dedicate our temples to different gods, but at least they will be functioning, and will need guarding.”

“Let's get away from here before they come,” Harbinger said.

Thus readily had Keeper won his point. He was relieved. If the priests had had some stamina or courage, there might have been a case, but as it was, there was indeed nothing to fight for. The priests plainly lacked the confidence in the gods that they had preached all their lives.

They hurried back to the house. They were in plenty of time; no Toltecs had shown up yet.

Keeper went back to bed; he had had little sleep the prior night. Crenelle joined him, he thought mainly as a courtesy, but then he realized that she had not slept either until he returned.

“Are you sure Allele is safe?” she asked him.

“Almost sure. A man with a lonely daughter—our household makes sense. She will not be lonely here.”

“But there is much we don't know.”

“Of course. But it does look good.”

They slept some time, until nervousness about the situation outside rendered them unable. They got up and joined the others.

“It's happening,” Haven said grimly. She was standing by the wall, peering out between strands of thatch that overlapped from the roof. Their house was solid stone only partway up; above it wooden supports led to the thick thatch roof. It was a good house, in a good location.

Except for one thing, now: the Toltec warriors were ravaging every house except theirs. Keeper could hear the nearest neighbor wife screaming as she got raped. He realized that she had better stop screaming soon, or she would suffer worse. Then, suddenly, she stopped—and he wasn't sure why.

He joined Haven, peering out. He saw flames starting at the next house. Then he knew why. The soldiers normally burned a house only after they had finished with it, and if they were annoyed because it had provided too little loot or entertainment. The woman had protested too much, so they had killed her and were going on to the next. This was their way of educating citizens to the new reality.

Except for this house. No soldier approached it. No soldier wanted his beating heart to be served up as the next holiday sacrifice. Tuho was being as good as his word. But that marked their house as one specially favored by the enemy; what would it mean when things settled down, and their neighbors remembered?

But as the awful day progressed, and the fires surrounded them, he
realized that this would be no problem. There would
be
no neighbors. Those who weren't killed would be hauled away as slaves. His deal with Tuho had saved his family from likely extinction.

“Yet at what cost?” Haven asked, understanding his thought.

What cost, indeed! How could they take any pride in their salvation, knowing the cost to others? But the alternative would have been to have their own women raped, their men drafted into the Toltec army, their children perhaps enslaved. Unless they succeeded in escaping, as they had been planning to do. But the Toltecs controlled most of the rest of the region, so prospects would have been dim. They might have hidden until things settled down, then returned, but that had no certainty of success. So there really was no cost; they had simply found a better way to survive. Still, he felt ill.

It went on all afternoon, and into the night; the raiders simply burned houses to make light for their continued carnage. But it gradually diminished toward dawn; a man could rape only so many women before his lust lost potency, and ransack only so many houses before he tired of the sport.

Still, they did not leave the house. That would not be safe to do until Tuho gave them leave.

For three days they waited, as the fires died down. Fortunately they had supplies stored, and the water was of course no problem. They ate, and slept, and peered out, and repeated the process.

At last a party walked up to their house. Haven recognized Craft and gave a shriek of delight. She dashed out to hug him.

Keeper, more cautious, followed her out. There was Rebel, with two children. One of them was Allele, who leaped into his arms.

“That is Haven,” Rebel said, speaking to the other child. “And that is Keeper, Allele's father.”

“Where is Commander Tuho?” Keeper asked, looking around. For the man was not there.

“He felt it would be better for Tula to meet the family on her own,” Rebel explained.

“Also, he's a very busy man at the moment,” Craft added. “Collecting
the scattered troops, assigning them occupation quarters, organizing food and refuse missions.”

Now came the key introduction: Tula to Crenelle. Tula was a well-dressed girl, with valuable jade stones at her throat, and a fancy shell comb in her hair. Her gaze was clear, her little chin high, and her mouth was firm. She looked very much like the child of a chief.

Crenelle emerged from the house, smiling, but the girl, suddenly shy, clung to Rebel, the more familiar figure.

Crenelle backed off. “There is no need to hurry things,” she said. But Keeper suspected she was hurt. Fortunately Allele took up the slack by hugging her.

They entered the house. They had prepared a chamber for Tuho, and made room for Tula by Allele's place, by Crenelle's bed. But they could be flexible.

As it turned out, they did need to be. Tula had known Rebel several days before she met Crenelle, and she wanted to stay with Rebel. Rebel, flattered, was not averse; she had no child of her own, and could have none. So Tula stayed with her for the night.

Next day Tula played with Allele, but was also interested in what the adults were doing. It was clear that she missed the family life she had lost when her mother died, and liked the returning feeling of it. But it was Rebel's chamber she shared.

The following morning Craft was home. Tula joined him; he, too, was more familiar, having traveled with her. She asked him questions about his work, and seemed interested in the answers. “She is a bright child,” Craft confided to Keeper. “I saw that as we traveled. But there's something else about her.”

“She seems normal, for a chief's daughter,” Keeper said.

“She isn't. But I'm not sure how she differs.”

In the afternoon, Craft went out. Now Tula oriented on Crenelle, as Keeper learned later from her. “She apologized for avoiding me, when we first met,” Crenelle said, amazed. “She said the journey had made her tired and cross.”

Keeper smiled. “That sounds like a rehearsed excuse.”

“She seemed sincere. She stayed with me, and was interested in cooking and the washing.”

“Maybe she hasn't seen much of those, being without a mother, so finds them intriguing.”

“No, she has seen slaves do it. She even helped me.” She smiled. “That made Allele jealous, so she helped too. Then they both went off to play.”

“Normal children after all.”

“I don't think so. It was almost as if Tula was humoring Allele, and when she saw her annoyed, catering to her.”

“That's adult manipulation,” Keeper said. “How could a child do it?”

“Tula is remarkably adult, in some ways. It's eerie.” She paused, reconsidering. “But charming. I do like her.”

Two days later, Tuho arrived. Tula hugged him and clung close. Soon she was showing him the house. She had learned a surprising amount about the house and its operations. She was plainly a very bright, attentive girl.

When Rebel joined the Toltec officer, Tula remained; it seemed she understood their relationship, and wanted to be part of it, in her way.

“I said there was something different about that child,” Craft remarked privately. “I think I underestimated the case.”

“Her father loved her mother,” Haven murmured. “She likes the ambiance.”

“But Rebel's his mistress, not his wife,” Keeper protested.

“The child may not be clear on the distinction. Sex, love, family—all allied.”

“And she already likes Rebel,” Keeper agreed. “And Rebel likes her.”

“This may become more than an affair,” Craft pointed out.

“More,” Keeper agreed, surprised.

“But I like Tula,” Haven said. “She is like a daughter to me.”

“How does your son Risk feel about that?” Craft asked her.

“He likes her too. She is like a little sister to him. She flatters him,
and he blushes.” Haven frowned. “She's as good at impressing a man as Rebel is, in her fashion.”

“And impressing a woman,” Craft said.

Haven nodded. “Rebel, Crenelle, me—we all find her charming. But I think Allele is becoming wary of her.”

“Tula is taking my daughter's place as the girl of the family,” Keeper said. “Some resentment is natural. I'll give Allele some time.”

“And listen to her,” Craft said. “Maybe she has fathomed the nature of the strangeness.”

Keeper doubted it, but he did talk to his daughter. “Tula is new here, and so is interesting, but we have not forgotten you.”

“She's strange,” Allele said. “I don't understand her.”

“She is the daughter of a high officer, and has no mother to mitigate his influence. So maybe she resembles a leader of men. But we must bear with her, for the safety of our family.”

Allele laughed. “You think I'm jealous!”

Keeper gave her a careful rueful look, for it was indeed what he thought. “You're not?”

“No. She's not trying to take my place; she wants to be my sister. I like her.”

“But you think she's strange.”

“Yes. She's not like me.”

“Maybe that's just as well,” he said, hugging her.

There were other surprises. The two girls exchanged information, and Tuho approached Keeper. “We need the water secured for the continuing population. Some of the wells have been fouled.”

“I will attend to it,” Keeper agreed. “Craft will help me clean them out.”

“Yes. Tula wishes to accompany you.”

Keeper was taken aback. If the commander wanted his daughter to go out in the city with two men, it would have to be done, but it did not seem wise. “Sir, this may be ugly work. Some of those wells are clogged with bodies.”