The Ancient Enemy (49 page)

"Thank you," she flashed him a small smile.

Strong enough? Truth to tell, she was terrified. The priests would want to rip her still-beating heart out of her chest and offer it to the Great God. But first they would question her, and she knew what that meant. By the time they were finished she would be begging for them to kill her.

She could tell that he sensed her fear. Mots had such keen senses. They seemed closer to the animals than men in that way.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you, it's all right. I can go on."

He continued to rest his hand on her shoulder, communicating support for her during this time of trial.

With an eloquent shrug, she confessed, "Part of me is afraid. You understand that, I'm sure."

"Yes. Your people have harsh ways."

She managed a brief smile.

"Let's just say that your folk live better lives than mine. Your buildings are not as grand as ours, and your emperors are quite unimportant, but your people are happy. Mine are not."

"Perhaps the message you carry will bring about change."

She seemed unconvinced. "How can a simple message do that? The empire of Shasht is enormous; it will not change very easily."

It was his turn to smile. "Perhaps you underestimate the Assenzi."

She smiled back more sincerely. Those strange little beings had a lot of secrets, that was for sure. "I hope so, I really do."

But inwardly she thought it was impossible. How could Thru, who meant no harm, ever really understand life in Shasht?

"You would go back to your own people sometime, I am sure of it."

"I don't know, Thru Gillo. I might prefer living out in the open, unconstrained by purdah, to going back."

Embarrassed, as he always was when the subject of purdah came up, Thru looked down. The word conjured up a world of walls and veils and covered wagons and secrets and terrible punishments, almost unimaginable for someone like Thru.

"I think it would be better for you to live among your people. I would find it strange to be in your position."

"It is strange, my friend. But you have helped me so much to survive it. I couldn't have done it without you." Indeed, she thought, she literally owed Thru her life; the mots in the seacoast village would have killed her but for him.

"But among my own people, I must still accept the laws. I will be shut up indoors again, kept behind walls. It is a suffocating way to live."

"But you will live. The message will protect you. The Assenzi promised."

She nodded, wishing she could believe it as easily as he.

The meeting place had been determined by an exchange of messages with the fleet. Getting the first message out to the fleet had been difficult, but was eventually achieved by a cog, which drifted close enough to the flagship one night to allow a mot with a bow to shoot several arrows bearing copies of the message into the rigging of the bigger ship. The fleet had reacted to the presence of the cog with a panicky dispersal during which
Anvil
almost rammed
Sword
. But soon afterward the admiral in command of the fleet sent a response, as requested, written and sealed in a white-painted barrel that floated in on the tide to Dronned beach.

The admiral expressed interest in seeing Simona Biswas Gsekk returned unharmed to the fleet. Polite words, hiding a fervent desire to know what she knew.

There was a tall grey rock at the very end of the wooded landspit. Simona was to wait there for a boat to put in to pick her up. No ship would linger close to the shore, not after the fireships, so the boat would have to come in a long way.

When they came out onto the trail leading to the grey rock, a couple of seals that were sleeping on the beach woke up, looked at them, and slid into the water.

Thru stopped when they were about a hundred paces from the rock. He did not trust the men in any degree, he had seen enough now of the face of Man to know that they felt no respect for such as he. They would as soon kill him as look at him.

He held her hands in his.

"Good-bye, Simona, I thank you for the gifts you brought us. You helped save all our lives."

There was a lump in her chest as she turned to him.

"And I thank you, Thru, for saving my life in return. If I can make it happen by going back now, then this war will end. My people must look elsewhere for a place to colonize."

And she put her arms out and held him close, as if he were a brother, and the soft fur of his neck rubbed against the pale skin of her own, and it felt quite natural. Then she went on down the track, and there were tears in her eyes, and she wondered at that. What had happened to her in these weeks among the strange little folk of the Land? She knew that she'd undergone an enormous change in certain attitudes. That she had thought of the mots and brilbies as "monkeys" when first she encountered them told her how far she had come.

And when she thought ahead of changing the minds of the colony fleet, she realized how great the task was that lay ahead of her. Even changing her father's mind might be difficult. If he was very angry at her for trying to take her own life, then he might shut his ears to her words.

But the imperative was firmly lodged in her heart. She had to stop the war; she had to go against the teaching of the priests. The mots were not animals, and the colony had no right to destroy them.

She came to the end of the trail and went on over the shingle of the beach to the very end of the spit, where she turned around the corner of the rock.

The heavy arm came up around her so quickly she barely had time to register it, and then a hand clamped over her mouth while another huge arm grabbed her around the waist and lifted her cleanly off her feet. She was borne away down the track on the far side of the rock.

Men were waiting there, and a longboat.

She was bound, gagged, wrapped in a heavy cloak, and thrust into the boat.

Thru saw none of this, but he sensed something that troubled him. Some sixth sense was prickled into life. He looked back. His path back to the woods was clear. He looked to the rock again. There had been no sound, no indication of trouble except those seals that had moved into the water at their approach. Seals were only hunted occasionally in deep winter, for their meat and blubber. They had no reason to fear.

And there were fewer birds here than there might be. He took a cautious step toward the rock and heard a whistle in the air; he half turned his head and then the boomerang struck him on the back of the head and the lights went out.

When he came back to consciousness it was to a throbbing head. His hands were tied behind his back, and he was lying on a wooden surface. There were strong smells, salty smells.

The wood was in motion, tilting slightly one way and then the other.

He was on a ship!

His blood ran cold. The men had taken him captive. Unwelcome probabilities abounded.

His only bonds were on his wrists. He was able to move his legs and to sit up. His eyes grew accustomed to the dimness of the room. His head throbbed badly, and he felt something caked on his face and neck, his fur stretched uncomfortably beneath it as if it were dried mud. How had they got so close without him hearing a thing?

Suddenly there came heavy footsteps, the door opened, light streamed in, and tall figures loomed over him.

A deep-set voice said, "He's awake now" in Shashti. Hands reached down and seized him under his arms and lifted him from the floor. He glimpsed a dark, low ceiling, then a door as he was half carried, half dragged out. Men, larger and bulkier than he, were crowded into these dark rooms. He saw a helmeted soldier holding a lantern at shoulder height.

There was another door, a wider set of stairs, and a corridor leading to another, much larger door. Inside was a well-furnished room with chairs, rugs, and table. On one wall hung a painting, a heroic landscape, on the other wall hung a woven mat, a "Chooks and Beetles" mat!

Thru had barely digested that amazing sight when he was plunked onto his feet and steadied in place by rough hands.

Sitting in a chair, observing him with intense concentration, was a large man wearing a splendid uniform in blue-and-red cloth. Another man in a much plainer uniform stood nearby, also studying Thru very carefully.

Thru looked to his right and saw another couple of men, one with a shaved head painted gold and beyond him, swathed in dark cloth was another figure. He caught a flash of the eyes behind the veil.

"Simona!"

"What have they done to you, Thru?"

"Knocked me down. Don't remember anything else."

"There is blood on your face."

"That explains why my head hurts so much."

The heavyset man in the fancy uniform sat up and roared at them. "By the great purple ass of He Who Eats, what is this talking in my presence without my permission?"

Thru noticed that this loud-voiced man had a wooden peg from the knee down on one leg and a big bandage on one hand.

"And why should we need your permission to speak?" said Thru coolly.

The man bolted up from his chair with an effort and loomed dangerously over Thru. "Because I am ruler here, and you are nothing but a fornicating, sodomistic monkey! And if you don't do what I tell you, I'll have you whipped here and now."

The man calmed himself, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling for inspiration. "They told me this monkey could speak Shasht. I didn't believe it possible, but damn me if it ain't true!"

Suddenly the yellow top in the corner drew a knife and lunged at Thru. The admiral smashed his cane across the yellow top's arm while his huge young bodyguard sprang forward and punched the priest in the side of the head hard enough to drive him into the bulwark with a thud.

"That's it!" snarled Heuze. "Throw him out! Enough of these fornicating priests. They're nothing but trouble."

The yellow top was picked up and hustled outside, where the guards continued to beat him for a while longer. The sound of heavy blows kept up until someone finally shut the door.

"Thank you, Polok!" said Admiral Heuze.

The huge youth stood quietly in the corner again.

"So"—the admiral spun back to stare at Thru—"you can speak the language of men, can you?"

"I have learned some words of your language. We also taught Simona some words of our language."

"Ha! That'll be enough of that, my fine little monkey friend."

Heuze realized that it was the eyebrows that suggested the monkeyness of the slim figure more than anything else. Otherwise, the creature was a fur-covered man of slight stature.

Heuze had eaten them, but he'd never somehow imagined speaking to one.

He chuckled, turned to Biswas. "First time I've ever talked to my dinner..." Now he roared, slapped his knee with his good hand, and nudged Biswas in the ribs. Biswas, appalled, simply stared at the captured "monkey." His daughter was there in the corner, unrepentant, impossibly rude to her father and speaking to this monkey creature as if it were her friend? Heuze's crude joke was not amusing either. To eat these creatures was far too close to cannibalism.

"Why will it be enough?" said Thru, confused.

"We aren't going to learn your language, that's why."

Thru was still puzzled.

"Why do you hate us?"

Heuze's laugh failed in his throat.

"I wouldn't dignify you by calling my feelings hate, little monkey."

Thru felt strangely unafraid. "You are angry now; why?"

"You impudent whelp!" Heuze slapped Thru into the wall with his bandaged hand and immediately let out a bellow of pain and clutched his wounded hand to his belly.

When he turned back to face the admiral, Thru was bleeding from his upper lip.

"And then you strike me while my hands are bound."

"Shut your mouth, until I ask you to speak." The admiral winced again, and the huge youth moved closer.

"Thru, listen to them," Simona spoke up suddenly. "They will hurt you. There's no point in giving them the excuse."

"Be silent, you little bitch! Or I will have you whipped 'til the blood runs down your back."

The admiral turned back to Thru.

"Normally in a situation like this, I would have you beaten for a while, to knock that cockiness right out of you, before I got down to asking you my questions. But I think you're bright enough to see there's no need to go down that road."

Thru stared at the man. That had been a heavy blow, indeed.

"What do you want from me?" he said.

"Answers, that's all. Just plain, simple answers; you don't have to try and get clever on me."

"Why should I answer you when you will kill me anyway?"

"Yes, and eat you, too. But not until I decide you won't tell me anything more that might be useful."

"You may as well kill me then; I'll tell you nothing."

The admiral had an unpleasant smile on his face.

"Well, well, such defiance. We'll see how defiant you are after the irons have been heated properly, eh?" He snapped his fingers. "Take it away."

Thru was seized and hustled out the door and back to the small cell he'd awoken in. There he sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the ship, the creak of timbers, the rattle of footsteps on an upper deck.

After some time had passed more men came in and took him to another room, with a sharp chemical smell. The man who'd stood beside the admiral was waiting.

"I am Simona's father. I believe you can understand my speech."

"I do."

"I am a medical man, and I wish to examine you, before, well..." He trailed of.

Thru had some idea of what might be in store.

"They kill me and eat my body."

"Urm, well, yes, I'm afraid so. But before then I wish to make a record of your physique."

Thru saw conflicting emotions warring behind the man's eyes, and noticed something of Simona's cast of features in the man's face. Certainly he did not bluster and threaten like the choleric admiral.

"If it will help your people to achieve understanding and peace, go ahead."

"I must thank you for saving my daughter's life. She has told me much concerning you. You are a weaver, she says."