Unexpected Stories (5 page)

Diut stood still for a moment and listened to the squalling ahead of him. He could no longer hear his pursuers, though he had no doubt that he would be hearing them again soon. There should be a fork in the tunnel just ahead. One passageway was only part of the inner ring that connected the nonfighter apartments. The second passageway, however, should lead to a second double ring of fighter and nonfighter apartments, and to a third, a fourth, and a fifth. The ancient ruin had grown by duplicating itself, becoming a city of five parts. But Diut doubted that the small tribe of Rohkohn occupied even all of the one double ring that they had taken over. If he could get to one of the unoccupied rings and find his way out …

He hesitated, knowing that the second passageway went once more through the outer ring of this circle and, doubtless, through a line of Rohkohn fighters who would be more adequately prepared this time. But it was his only real chance.

He flattened himself against the wall, blending instantly and invisibly into it, then reblending as he moved so that only someone who happened to be staring intently as he moved along would notice him. And by the sounds ahead, he doubted that anyone would be paying attention to the walls.

He edged around the bend until he was able to see what he had expected—two deep-green hunter children rolling on the floor biting, kicking, punching, clawing each other savagely. A few other children of fighter and nonfighter castes stood in a circle around the combatants, watching silently. A pair of adult nonfighters came out of a nearby apartment and crossed the passageway to another apartment, hardly giving the hunter children a glance.

Diut watched the fighting children, seeing that both were tired and hurt. He knew that the fight would soon end. If it ended with him where he was, though, he might have to reveal himself to escape. No one in this section would try to stop him if he revealed himself, but the nonfighters would immediately send messengers to his pursuers. As things stood, the Rohkohn fighters behind him could not be certain whether he was still moving or whether he had camouflaged himself in the hope that his superior ability would prevent his being seen. Or he might have turned down a side passageway or found his way into another apartment. They could not run headlong as he had. They had to check all the possibilities as they followed. He had that much of an advantage and he did not intend to give it away.

As he continued to move, the topmost child of the fighting pair managed to get a hold on the throat of his opponent with his strong young teeth. The bottom child instantly turned the faded yellow of submission, and the fight was over.

The winner stood up, his body luminescent green with victory. The loser took longer to get up. He maintained his submissive yellow and met the winner’s eyes gravely when that child looked at him. But when the winner advanced on him once more, the watching fighter children, passive until then, abruptly formed a line separating the combatants and facing the winner. The bluest child in the line, a boy who would someday be a judge, spoke authoritatively. Diut’s familiarity with the situation and with the imperial root language permitted him to understand most of what was said and to fill in what he did not understand.

“There is nothing more to decide, Choh. You are stronger.”

“And more blue!” said the winner hotly.

The young judge-to-be turned, looked questioningly at the loser.

The loser seemed to meet his defender’s gaze with difficulty, but he was proud. He did not break down; he did not turn his face away. But he did not say the necessary words either.

The protective line of children melted away as quickly as it had formed, and Choh advanced again as though he had not been interrupted. The loser stood his ground, his desperation showing only in his eyes. He made no move to defend himself as Choh approached. Perhaps Choh was impressed by his courage, as he hesitated instead of striking at once.

“What can you win?” Choh asked. “Are you ashamed to admit the truth?”

The loser seemed to come to the necessary decision slowly. His eyes became less desperate, more resigned. When he first opened his mouth to speak, he had no voice and had to try again. The second time he succeeded.

“I’m ashamed,” he said. “You will be too, someday.” Then, very softly, “You’re more blue.”

The excitement was over, and Diut was not yet near the tunnel fork that he had been approaching. He stopped and waited, completely undetectable now that he was no longer moving. He knew that the passageway where it widened for the fork was probably a regular gathering place for the children, but now that the fight was over perhaps they would leave. If they did not, if he let them keep him where he was long enough for his pursuers to reach this part of the dwelling, it would not be necessary for him to be visible to be found. The Rohkohn fighters would have torches by now for testing the walls. A single torch drawn along the wall until it reached him would burn him and caused a reflexive change in his coloring.

Some of the children were leaving. The two who had fought and three others went away to various apartments along the passageway. The others, however, after discussing the fight until it became boring, organized one of the hiding games that served the double purpose of keeping them occupied and forcing them to improve their camouflage skills. To make matters worse, Diut caught the sound of many feet moving slowly down the passageway that he had intended to enter. These were sounds that he had expected to hear from behind him, but apparently his enemies had seen their own weakness—their inability to cover the unoccupied parts of the dwelling—and they had anticipated him. A moment later, he heard the Rohkohn behind him too and knew that his concealment had become useless. Immediately, he ceased his camouflage.

Two of the children who happened to be facing in his direction when he became visible flared yellow and fled. Others looked to see what had frightened them, then scattered to vanish inexpertly into the nearby walls. In full view of all of them, Diut walked to the apartment that he had seen Choh enter. As that apartment door had opened, Diut, directly across from it, had seen several nonfighters and younger children inside. It looked, Diut thought bitterly, like a good place to make a last stand.

The adults inside the apartment were artisans, specifically weavers. The apartment was only a single room containing several large looms. It was clearly a factory rather than a living area. Apparently the Rohkohn made greater use of cloth than did Diut’s Tehkohn, who preferred animal skins almost exclusively for their mats and blankets.

Within the room some children sat on the floor and played a game with small sticky and smooth stones, while others clustered around the sides of one of the looms listening to a male artisan who was telling them a story. One child—Diut saw at once that it was Choh—stood alone beside the loom of a quietly beautiful artisan female, no doubt telling her of his recent victory. The woman was probably one of his guardians.

Diut’s size and coloring attracted everyone’s attention at once. Weavers ceased their monotonous work and the children on the floor stopped their game. But this time, in the closed room, no one tried to run. The children waited to see what the adults would do and the adults were apparently not willing to abandon the children as they would have to do if they hoped to escape.

After a moment of silence, Choh’s foster-mother—who happened, with her bright yellow-green coloring, to be the bluest adult present—stood up and faced Diut.

“You are the Tehkohn Hao?” She spoke the imperial language flawlessly in spite of fear that she did not even try to hide.

“So,” answered Diut.

She looked around the room at the children and other nonfighters, then looked back to Diut. “There is another way out of this room, Tehkohn Hao.”

“I’m aware of it,” Diut said regretfully. The camouflage here was not as good as in Tahneh’s apartment, and he had just spotted it. But he had noticed something else too. “It leads to a passageway now being searched.” At this depth, no single apartment had a passageway that lead directly to the surface.

The woman spoke more softly. “If there must be fighting here then, will you let the youngest children be taken out?”

“No,” Diut said.

The woman accepted this as though she had expected it. Her eyes half closed as though in pain, she said, “We’re at your command, Tehkohn Hao.”

Diut sighed. “Get the children off the floor. Keep them well back against the looms with you and they may not be hurt.”

While other weavers moved to get the young children, the woman continued to face Diut. “We will keep them behind us,” she said quietly.

Diut accepted this in silence. Choh’s hunter parents had placed him well. For a nonfighter, the woman had rare courage.

There was a wait that probably seemed longer than it was for the two search parties to come together outside the door of the weavers’ room. Soon, Diut knew, he would have every fighter in the dwelling outside that door. But within the room, he had twelve nonfighter adults and fifteen children. That fact alone might keep the Rohkohn outside for quite a while. It took time to decide to sacrifice nonfighters and children, and there was no doubt that the searchers understood the implied threat of Diut’s fleeing into a room full of defenseless people. Diut had only the ignorance of the Rohkohn in his favor now. They did not know whether the mountain Hao was savage enough to begin slaughtering his prisoners if he were attacked. They did not know whether the first fighter through the door would be met by the hurled body of a dead child. Or most of them did not know. One of them, however, despite their short acquaintance, probably knew Diut dangerously well.

The door opened silently, slowly, and the Rohkohn Hao stepped through it with no attempt at camouflage.

Tahneh understood the situation at a glance—that glance being all the looking around she allowed herself in the presence of a desperate Hao. Diut had harmed no one, had permitted the nonfighters to shield the children.

The sight comforted her somehow, reassured her that she was not alone in her dangerous foolish sentimentality. The fact that he had taken hostages in his position showed that he had decided to die. The only thing hostages could buy him was death, but in order to buy him even that, some of them had to die. She should have found some of them dead when she came in—her coming, slow as it had been, should have triggered a few deaths. A corpse should have been flung at her as she entered. Diut should have done everything he could to make her and her fighters believe they needed vengeance more than they needed a successor Hao. But Diut had not been brutal enough. And now, it was too late. She kept her eyes on him but spoke to her nonfighters.

“Take the children and leave quickly.”

The nonfighters obeyed immediately, Choh’s foster mother leading the way. Diut moved as though to a group that was warily passing him. When he moved, Tahneh danced several quick steps toward him. He turned back to her barely in time to stop her rush.

She let him back away, now that he understood how well she would use his slightest inattention. He made no further effort to stop the nonfighters. They filed out slowly and when they were gone, Ehreh’s voice came through the doorway behind her.

“They’re all safe, Rohkohn Hao.”

“Close the door,” Tahneh ordered.

There was a period of silence during which Tahneh saw that she had surprised Diut and guessed that she had surprised Ehreh as well. She had come to take part in the capture on hearing that Diut held nonfighters and children hostage. Her only thought then had been to free the hostages safely. The Tehkohn Hao concerned her deeply and what was about to happen to him sickened her, but her own people came first. She could not have stood by and watched them destroyed by a foreigner, even though that foreigner was blue. Now that the hostages were safe, however, she found herself emotionally and physically unable to stand aside and permit her fighters to take Diut. She knew that she was only putting off the inevitable. Diut had to be taken; she could give him only minutes. But at least she could see that he got those.

Ehreh spoke very carefully. “We are ready for him, Rohkohn Hao. He cannot escape us again.”

“So,” agreed Tahneh. She stepped aside, away from the doorway so that Ehreh was not directly behind her. She saw Diut grow tense and knew he thought she was giving him to her fighters. But out of the corner of her eye, she also saw Ehreh become tense. The chief judge knew her far better than did Diut. He could read her tone of voice even when her coloring remained neutral. He could understand when it was best to be silent and obey. Tahneh spoke again very softly. “Close the door, Ehreh.”

Without another word, Ehreh stepped back out of the apartment and closed the door.

When he was gone, Tahneh gave her full attention to Diut. He had lifted his head slightly, much as he had lifted it the night before, but this time the gesture was open challenge.

Tahneh ignored the challenge, sadly quoted her own words of the night before. “‘There is only one thing that the Hao does not control, and that is the succession.’ ” She grayed with helpless regret. “I don’t want this, little cousin.”

“Don’t you? I’m comforted, Tahneh!” He spat the words at her.

“Your own people will commit this same act when you don’t return to them,” she said. “No tribe would deliberately remain without a Hao … and I can’t give my people the successor that they must have.”

“But they have you now! Later your judges might produce …”

“A Hao from the air? How often do such things happen, Diut?”

“They happen!”

“They are considered miraculous. Do you think my people would let you go and gamble their future on a hoped-for miracle?”

He did not answer. He turned his face away from her in a way that was calculated to be insulting. Again she ignored the insult. She spoke gently.

“You’re the miracle, cousin, coming to us in this time of trouble when the people have finally admitted to themselves that I can’t give them a successor; when our river is drying up, dying …”