The Inferior (28 page)

He saw her fall to the ground just in front of him. A beast was reaching down for her with a knife. Stopmouth’s vision turned red. He all but decapitated Indrani’s attacker with a swing of his Armourback-shell spear. But two more of the enemy were already reaching for her and the rest of the humans were being driven from the edge of the roof. He felt a cut on his leg and found the Skeleton chief before him, pushing him back, away from Indrani. He screamed.

It was then that the Globe descended on them, a streak of shining, roaring silver. The sky flashed.

The whole world seemed to shake. A wave of heat washed over the combatants, followed by smoke. The fighting paused as human and beast took in what had happened. Half the lower building of the U was missing. Blackened Skeleton corpses covered the rest of it, some of them smoking, some in small pieces, as though torn asunder and flung in random directions. Only the rank of beasts nearest the humans had survived.

The pause was ended by the translated words of the Skeleton leader. ‘Over the wall!’ it shouted. ‘We are finished! Over the wall!’

As the Skeletons turned to flee, Stopmouth picked up his Armourback-shell spear and flung it as hard as he could. The shaft flew true and plunged through the enemy chief’s body. Then he was leaping down to the next level. His injured leg gave way under him. He forced himself up, pulling charred and smoking bodies from the spot where he’d seen Indrani go down.

‘I’m unhurt,’ she said when he found her, although her whole body shook. ‘I told you. They wouldn’t let me die.’

He wanted to ask her how she’d known the Globes would intervene–they’d never tried to save her before–but she seemed to be looking straight past him. He turned to find Varaha standing behind him. The man hadn’t even suffered a scratch.

‘I’m glad you’re all right,’ said the teacher. ‘Whoever did this’–his eyes flickered to Stopmouth and then back to Indrani–‘will want something in exchange.’

She nodded once and the man turned away.

‘Indrani…?’

‘I’m fine, Stopmouth.’ She avoided his eyes. ‘Your people need you now. They have no experience of this. Help them.’

It was true. The wounded were everywhere, crying out in pain or fear. Some people were tending them, others were finding Skeletons in a similar condition and taking revenge. Stopmouth glanced upwards. The attacking Globe had returned to its usual harmless floating.

He almost tripped over Kubar, tending the injured Yama.

‘Staring’s not going to help!’ said the elder.

Bubbles of flesh and blood covered Yama’s left ankle. His face was distorted in pain, the scars on his cheek darker than ever. He looked up at Stopmouth.

‘We should have charged them when I said!’ he raged. ‘This would never have happened to me.’

A lot of people nearby turned at the sound of his raised voice.

‘I see,’ said Stopmouth. He nodded. He raised his own voice too, but kept it as calm as he could. ‘You also said, I remember, that we should do things properly around here. That we should have volunteers from now on.’

‘What do you mean?’

Stopmouth turned to Kubar. ‘How long do you think it will take him to heal?’

‘Well, how would I know? We’ve never even seen that kind of injury before!’

‘Maybe not soon enough,’ said Stopmouth.

‘I’ll heal!’ said Yama. ‘Oh, gods! I’ll heal.’ He started to cry, not like a man would, but like the boy he was, snivelling, blubbing. ‘Please, Stopmouth. Please, not me.’

Stopmouth did not alter his expression. ‘I trained you and these others, Yama. I wanted us to act like one body, to
be
one body. And that body can only have one head. Do you hear me?’

‘Yes.’ He had snot running down his upper lip.

Stopmouth felt wretched, lower than the worst bully. He kept his face impassive. All the survivors were watching. ‘Who is the chief?’

‘You are. You are, Stopmouth.’

‘You will never disobey me again.’ He limped away as quickly as he could. His own injured leg was about to give way. He didn’t want anybody watching when that happened.

22.

WHO WILL LOOK AFTER THEM?

T
he orphans were supposed to be sleeping now that dark had fallen. Stopmouth listened to the echoes of their whispers and giggles as they rolled about the floor with the infant Fourlegger. He’d heard it could understand a few human words, but couldn’t reproduce them. He wondered again at the wisdom of letting it live. How would such children grow to hunt Fourleggers now? How could
he
hunt them? He never used to have nightmares about killing beasts, but these days…He didn’t know whether to blame the change on his woman or the Talker, but he wasn’t sure he could survive without either.

‘Leave the children,’ he said to Indrani. ‘Lie down with me.’

‘I don’t know who’s going to look after them.’ She held her hands across her belly in a gesture he’d seen before but couldn’t place.

‘You’ll look after them,’ he said.

She bit her lower lip and came to the bed of pounded moss they shared. As usual, these days, she lay down far enough away that he couldn’t encircle her with his arms.

‘It’s been a long time–two tens, Indrani,’ said Stopmouth. ‘At least two. Why won’t you move closer? Ever since the battle on the roofs it’s like you…’
Like you died
. He’d said it before and didn’t want to repeat it now.

Not too far away, through one of the many doorways that honeycombed the top floor of Headquarters, a woman was singing. Something lovely maybe, but distorted by echoes and frequently interrupted by the
slap slap
of small running feet and the pointless scolding of an adult voice.

Then all was quiet again. Stopmouth and Indrani were alone but for a charcoal figure somebody had drawn on the wall–a long-nosed beast, supposedly a god. It flickered in the light of a dying fire, its great mouth grinning at the chief’s discomfort.

‘What have I done to you?’ Stopmouth said to Indrani.

He really wanted to ask her about Varaha. She’d seemed to dislike the man before, but was spending more and more time with him now.

‘It’s nothing
you’ve
done,’ she said. And she turned away so he wouldn’t see the usual look of guilt that crossed her face when he confronted her.

Stopmouth sighed and regarded the circle of hunters. Eight men and two women hung on his every word, looking at him as they might have looked at their gods, back before they’d abandoned them. Sometimes he felt like shouting: ‘That’s not me!’ But Indrani wasn’t the only one acting strangely since the battle. Stopmouth wasn’t his usual self any more either; the tongue-tied boy, the lesser brother. The hunters obeyed him without question, but were too respectful to be his friends.

‘Tonight we need three corpses.’ He took the time to look each hunter in the eye. ‘If those corpses are human, so be it. And don’t think three’ll be enough for even one meal for the Tribe! It won’t. But I’ll be taking another group out tomorrow night, and another one the night after that. In four nights’ time you all get to go again.’

The chief hoped it would be enough. These were the best he had left. Sodasi and Kamala, the slingers; Sanjay, who could catch Stopmouth in a sprint and had uncanny accuracy when throwing the warped spear he’d made for himself; Vishwakarma, a brute of a man by these people’s standards, who ignored pain to defeat skilled opponents; Kubar, the ex-priest, oldest of the group, but smart enough to stay alive in a fight…and then there was Varaha. He still wore the little wooden necklace he’d come with and the same knowing grin. It turned Stopmouth’s stomach now. Varaha alone was unafraid of the chief–or indeed anything, as far as Stopmouth could tell. Except maybe marriage. He was the only unmarried adult man left in the Tribe, in spite of what he’d said once before about choosing a wife.

Only Rockface was missing, and perhaps that was for the best: even if he’d been able to run, this would be a hunt such as the big man had never seen and probably wouldn’t want to see. None of this group would be charging into danger. The chief couldn’t afford to lose them.

Stopmouth glanced up at the Roof, seeing how the panels darkened. It was time to leave. Nobody was there to wish them well and he missed the comfort of flicking a drop of blood at a loved one as a promise to return.

The hunters moved off as he’d taught them, passing through the double line of posts topped with beast skulls that now surrounded Headquarters. He winced at every clumsy noise.

Each hunter carried spear and knife and sling–the customary weapons of humans since the time of the Traveller. Oh, these people couldn’t hunt in the traditional way–it took a lifetime to acquire that skill! But they’d used the time won in the battle to learn to fight as one being, to co-operate as no humans ever had. Still, they weren’t ready. Not even these, his best and brightest. But time was short and people were going hungry.

Down the streets they moved, never too fast for the weaker ones. Each member of the group took up a position in the formation he’d worked out with Kubar: the best slingers ran at the sides; spearmen took the front, with knife men just behind, ready at a moment’s notice to duck inside and gut the enemy. Their footsteps were silent over the bright patches of moss.

As they advanced, the streets narrowed, becoming twisty and unpredictable. Small, mean houses crowded the roadside. The few roofs that hadn’t collapsed sloped upwards into little points that no one could possibly sleep on. A vision came to Stopmouth of this place in the time of the ancestors. Humans lived in every building. Women chatted across the width of the alleys from those little windows while their children ran in the streets. Everywhere was thronged like Centre Square on the day of a flesh meeting, and the scent of people and cook fires perfumed the air. Nobody watched the shadows for attack. Nobody had to.

How did they die? he wondered. Certainly Indrani knew, but he’d sworn not to ask about it. The temptation, however, tore at him constantly.

Suddenly Sodasi yelped and fell out of position. She had the presence of mind to call ‘Tongue!’

The formation reacted instantly. The closest knife man ducked in to cut the tongue while spearmen held the charging Slimer at bay. Its weight knocked Kubar backwards to where more tongues emerged from windows to ensnare him. Like a swarm, the other humans turned on the owners of these tongues, slashing and stabbing. One of the Slimers called out: ‘Save me, brothers! Come to me, brothers! Oh, the pain!’

Shut up! thought Stopmouth. He opened his mouth to call off the attack, but luckily Varaha ended the creature’s pleas with a thrust straight through its chest.

‘We have to eat,’ Stopmouth told himself. He knew he’d have to make a proper effort to learn the language of his Tribe, because he’d never be able to take the Talker hunting again.

The humans suffered a few casualties of their own: one slinger with a sprained ankle and a bad case of nerves; Kubar unconscious through lack of air; one of Yama’s friends bruised and limping from a human slingshot to the back of the leg. Stopmouth himself had felt a stone whistle past his ear during the attack. ‘We still have a lot to learn,’ he commented. But he cheered along with the others, for they’d come less than a thousand paces from Headquarters and already they’d filled their quota.

‘I’ll show you how we celebrate,’ he said. He slit open a steaming corpse and removed the first internal organ he could find. He had no idea what it was and didn’t care. He sliced it into little squares for the others to share.

‘These bits are always for the hunters,’ he said.

They chewed, beaming. Only Varaha refused.

‘Not after all that action!’ he said.

‘You’re not even panting,’ said Stopmouth. ‘Go on, you’ve earned your share.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘That’s not the point!’

Kamala intervened. ‘He’s just private, Chief,’ she said. ‘A lot of people are still ashamed at the way we eat here.’

She ducked her head at Varaha’s beaming approval.

Stopmouth thought about ordering the man to eat, but hated acting the bully, whatever personal animosity he might have felt. Besides, what Kamala had said was true.

‘Let’s butcher these and get them home,’ he said.

Back at Headquarters he made great show of cutting up the flesh and sharing it out. People listened with rapt attention while his hunters told their stories. They laughed as Varaha described Kubar’s knock on the head as ‘falling asleep on the job’. He continued loudly, ‘Nor was this the first time. Just ask his wife!’

They pretended to be scandalized and maybe, in the Roof, they would have been. But Varaha had read them correctly and bathed in their laughter.

The crowd began to disperse and the teacher turned to leave. Stopmouth caught him by the arm.

‘Chief?’

‘Are you still not hungry, Varaha? You forgot your share of the meat.’

The man smiled his handsome smile. ‘So kind of you to remember.’

‘Varaha…what are you doing with my wife? Ever since the battle, you’ve been…you and her—’

Varaha surprised him by laughing in his face. ‘Oh, I’ve seen this before! This is how your brother started with you, isn’t it? He couldn’t hold onto his wives and the next thing he was sending you and that buffoon, Rockface, off by yourselves to take on the Armourbacks.’

‘How…how could you know that?’

‘The Roof sees everything. Surely your woman told you as much?’ Varaha’s voice turned hard and his eyes glittered. It was a side of him that he’d never revealed before but must have been there all along. ‘Now, listen to me,
Chief
. If you’re falling asleep on the job like Kubar, that’s none of my doing. My advice to you is to wait.’ The scorn left his voice, to be replaced by what Stopmouth now recognized as false friendship. ‘A few more days, Chief, and the problem will just go away. I promise you.’

The teacher left and Stopmouth found himself alone with Varaha’s share of the flesh still in his hands. What had he meant by ‘the problem going away’? What? Stopmouth leaned against a wall, fighting some of the most horrific thoughts of his life. He hadn’t felt so lonely since his mother died.

As if to mock that memory, laughter erupted from a nearby annexe. ‘Who’s there?’ he asked. He stepped under an arch to find that it was only some children, playing at hunting. Somebody had fashioned a little bag of Slimer hide and stuffed it with moss. Five or six boys and a pair of girls ran with it here and there, stabbing with little spears while Rockface shouted encouragement to them in Human. Everyone was screaming with mirth, Rockface most of all. A pair of infants too small for the game poked at the tattoos on his skin, while another rested in the crook of one massive arm.

‘Do you see, Stopmouth?’ he boomed. ‘These ones are already better than the adults! These are worth my time!’

Stopmouth wanted to ask who’d made the spears, but then he remembered the perfect set of miniature weapons Rockface had created for his lost son, Littleknife. The chief realized his friend would be an ancestor after all, for his teaching would pass through these children and into every generation that followed them.

Stopmouth handed over the flesh. ‘Varaha didn’t want this.’

‘He never does,’ said Rockface, helping himself to an eyeball. ‘Mmmm. Better than Armourback, hey?’ Then he was shouting, ‘No, Shankar! No! Use the point! Ah! Good boy!’ To Stopmouth: ‘He’s a strange man, hey? That Varaha. Do you think your Indrani likes him? Is that it? You shouldn’t let her spend so much time with him. It’s not good for the chief. Remember Wallbreaker.’

Stopmouth did. All the time. It was like his brother sat at his shoulder, watching everything he did. And more than that: he’d had a growing feeling, a certainty, that one day he’d meet his brother again, although that was impossible.

‘You shouldn’t let him get away with it either,’ said Rockface. ‘You know he leaves Headquarters every day by himself around this time? Down the ladder at the river window. That’s probably when he meets her.’

Stopmouth felt sick. What if it was true? What would the chief do about it? He couldn’t be sure, but for his own sanity he had to know what was going on. He had to.

Without another word, he left Rockface and ran full tilt for the river side of the building. Sure enough, when he looked out of the window there, he saw a human figure in the distance, disappearing in among the houses. It was against his own rules, but without a second thought he plunged down the ladder and ran after Varaha.

Soon he caught up, but kept a careful distance, tracking his quarry through the streets next to the river. Varaha never looked behind him, causing Stopmouth to scold himself for being such a bad teacher. How could an otherwise good hunter be so stupid? Did he think himself an ancestor who could just ignore all possible threats? Still, the chief was glad of the advantage it gave him.

The streets narrowed further and most of the buildings had surviving balconies, shielding both men from the Roof. Stopmouth checked behind to make sure he wasn’t being stalked in turn. When he looked back, he saw Varaha had disappeared.

He froze, wondering if he’d been spotted after all, if the other man now lay in wait for him round a corner. He stepped forward, eyes flicking onto the ground for clues, and up again. A strange window appeared in the wall, so low it was at street level. The moss in front of it had been scraped away in a few places.