CHAPTER TWELVE

DECEPTION AND MURDER

Maki arose early, moving quietly from the vestibule so as not to disturb his sleeping father after a continuous night of talking, and sharing of The Memories. His earlier anger and contempt had now dissolved to pity; he was convinced The Keeper did only what he felt was right, but suffered from the delusions of the very old. As future Keeper, he, Maki, had made the decision to be merciful; he would reinforce orders to Hidaig that his father should be spared from injury.

Maki had been suitably contrite in conversation with Anka, and they had coolly discussed the relative merits of Tenanken integrating with Hinchai in common communion, an act which he now admitted privately had already been done by most Tenanken many tens of thousands of years in the past, for the features of so many Hinchai enemies would pass anywhere as Tenanken. For Maki, the issue was not racial, but cultural and spiritual. It was Tahehto blood which carried the genetic memories binding the Tenanken together, a union intensified by exchanges of the mind-touch in which Hinchai perhaps received, but returned nothing. At the rate they were arriving, Hinchai would be dominant and the Tenanken culture would soon be extinct.

When he entered the main cavern, he saw only two cooking fires were burning, most of the band still sleeping after the feast of the previous evening. He walked around the top of the chamber, stopping and bowing formally as Tel came out of a fumarole, stooping over to avoid cutting her head on a crystal crust.

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Ah, you’re up early. I presumed you and your father would still be in conversation and memory, so I went outside to watch the sun rise. We will allow the children to play on the bluff today.”

“Do you think that’s wise? They might be seen by Hinchai who hunt the antlered ones this time of year.”

“It’s a risk, but they will wear Hinchai clothing, and a guard will be posted. It’s necessary they spend some time in sunlight to give their skin a more natural color.”

“I suppose, but the color fades quickly. Why not wait until they’re to integrate with the Hinchai? Surely that time is soon.”

Something flickered in Tel’s eyes for an instant. “That decision is up to Anka and Pegre. I have no idea when they will be leaving, but they become anxious. Even now they cook Hinchai foods over our fires; the odors are so delicious from many herbs and spices, and the variety of tastes is marvelous. The cooking skills of the Hinchai have developed far beyond ours, it seems. The caves and our isolation have held us back, yet in several ways I’ll miss this place: the coolness, quiet, the sparkle of firelight on the crystal ceilings. But it’s not a far distance, as long as my legs are good; I’ll return here when I can for my meditations, and your father for reinforcement of The Memories.”

Maki’s head was pounding. “I don’t understand,” he said, voice quavering. “You mean you’re leaving with the others? I thought you were staying here?”

“Oh, no, that’s all changed, now. While you were gone, your father put it to a vote of all Tenanken. The children and a few others are the first to leave. But thereafter, within a season or two, all else may join them if they choose to. It was put to a vote, Maki. Only a few have chosen to remain: the very old, near death, those who could not survive the climb to the bluff and down again. If you wish to stay, it’s your choice. Didn’t your father tell you that?”

“He said nothing about any of this! I assumed only a select few would be leaving.” Maki recognized the excitement in his voice, and fought for self-control. “I’m disappointed my father didn’t tell me about his own decision to leave; after all, I have returned to be near my parents, and now find I must make a new decision about my own future. It’s a surprise, Mother.”

“But it has upset you; I can see that. Your poor father, so happy to see his son again, and then forgetting to tell him about a major decision in our lives. It could not have been deliberate, and you will have time to consider your own future, with or without us. You control your own destiny, Maki. We might disagree with you, but we respect your right to choose your own way.”

She was probing his mind, digging for a response, but he had closed himself tightly, covering what was there with the vision of a waterfall. “I ask only that your choices will not interfere with the lives of others, or put them in danger of harm.”

“I’ll think about it, Mother. The caves are a dreary place, and I was thinking about that when we were camped outside in coolness, waking up to morning light and the smells of the trees. It’s a better life out there, especially for the children, but still I fear the Tenanken ways disappearing with our absorption into the Hinchai culture. That is the issue I must debate, and it will take some time. Father and I talked a lot about this, and in some ways he shares my fears. Surely you know this?”

“We’ve argued about it since the first days of The Plan. It is only in recent years Anka has become truly convinced integration is the only way to secure a future for the Tenanken. And certain sacrifices will be necessary. I have known that from the beginning, but it has seemed right to me. I have always been the advocate, while your father has been the scholar, relentlessly pursuing justification of The Plan and all the consequences. A great deal of thought, debate and planning has gone into this, Maki. I fail to see how anyone could ask for more.”

“As you say, individual decisions have been made. I will take more time to make mine. This conversation has been most helpful, Mother.”

“Good, then let us eat something to begin the day properly.” Tel put an arm around her son’s shoulders, and walked him around the top terrace of the great cavern until they came to a fire burning brightly within a ring of stones, sitting down cross-legged before it. Others had begun emerging from their sleeping quarters, and a heavy odor of wood smoke was in the air. The fire burned quickly into a pile of glowing embers, into which Tel placed yams and powdered sage wrapped in green leaves. Heating stones brought tea to a boil in minutes, and they drank it in silence as life stirred around them.

At a neighboring fire, Baela and her parents cooked their morning meal quickly, the little darting one running to and fro getting sticks and water and various seasonings for her mother, blue eyes ever wide and alert, blonde hair forever falling over her face. Maki watched her with more than casual interest, noting the lengthening, coltish legs, and budding breasts she made no efforts to hide. He caught her eye twice, but she turned away, embarrassed. Her father, Moog, noticed this the second time it happened, fixing an eye on Maki until the younger man returned his gaze to the fire, thinking, not for you, this little one, not even for a Keeper’s son, but for a tall, Hinchai male to make Hinchai babies when her time has come. He looked again, but now Baela’s mother Deda was also watching him. He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled feebly. No matter. When the time comes, I will be sure both of you are dead, and your daughter will bear the children of Tenanken warriors.

Tel quizzed him about his friends he knew she disliked so intensely. He explained that Dorald had been smitten by a female in Hidaig’s group, and was probably even now in her arms, while Han had decided he would seek a mate among those living near the point where the sun disappeared each evening. He had returned with Maki only to obtain his few personal possessions, and would leave within a day. Maki could see this news pleased his mother, for she had long despised his companions for their unkempt appearances, low intelligence and poor manners, and would now be rid of them forever.

When her meal was finished, Baela raced from the cavern for another day in the sun. Tel smiled as the lithe figure darted past her, shaking her head in mock exasperation at Moog and Deda, who simply smiled back. But Maki was suddenly struck with a disquieting feeling urging him to move. He excused himself, making his way across the cavern and up the exit tunnel to the small grotto which was his sleeping area. Han’s traveling roll lay by the exit, neatly tied, but he was not there. Still feeling uneasy, Maki crawled into the grotto and checked his own belongings: skins and furs for a bed, all neatly in place, the pointing weapon rolled up in a skin to one side of the bed, the hand weapon in a bundle beneath it. All seemed undisturbed, and the feeling left him as quickly as it had come. But he had sensed something, a thought or feeling, something dangerous. From whom?

At that instant he heard the crackle of branches as someone pushed their way through the entrance, and he scrambled quickly from his quarters to find Han tying his traveling bundle at his waist. “Ah, it’s you. Did you see anyone outside?”

“Only Baela, up that way, climbing on the rocks. Nobody else, but mostly I was getting water in the lower grotto. Why?”

“No reason,” said Maki quickly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. I’ve enough food here for three days.”

“I’ll deliver more to you. Be sure to stay out of sight, but keep on constant watch for Hidaig. They will travel by night. As soon as they arrive, come to me here in the grotto, but only then. Understand?”

Han nodded vigorously. “I’ll come at night, and call you from outside.”

Maki grasped him by both shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “We are brothers. Go, now.”

When Han had left, Maki went back to the grotto, changing the position of his bed so he could lie facing the entrance with ears to hear the slightest sound. He found a few pebbles, and was sprinkling them in a pattern on the floor, a pattern that could be disturbed by an unknown intruder, and then the uneasy feeling was on him again like an invisible hand, speeding his heart so he grunted in surprise, standing up and banging his head against the low ceiling. As pain spread over his scalp, the clutching sensation inside him was gone again, leaving him troubled. He sat down and breathed deeply, willing the pain away, and trying to think. Never before had he experienced such symptoms, yet there was something familiar about them in a subtle way, something close to his everyday life, the power of it misleading him to think—

It was there again, only now there was no disquiet because he had discovered an intention, and with effort he forced into his mind the image of first the tunnel beyond the great cavern, and himself climbing the sloping floor, torchlight showing the way, then the sight of the valley in full daylight as if he were sitting on an outside ledge. Beads of sweat burst forth on his forehead with the effort, but then he felt release, and scrambled from the grotto to a wide fumarole across the tunnel, sloping upwards, from which he could see his sleeping area. He crouched there and waited, ready to spring, ready to kill, holding an image of the valley firmly but easily in his mind.

Waiting seemed eternal. He had hoped for something to happen quickly, but there was not even a sound save distant laughter and shouting from the great cavern. His legs became cramped, and he shifted his weight. Twice he thought he felt something, but both times it was gone quickly, leaving him feeling frustrated and a bit silly curled up in his tiny hideaway. All feeling has ceased to exist in his legs, and he was about to shift his weight again when he heard a twig snap, then branches moving against each other as the entrance opened, and a narrow beam of sunlight fell on his sleeping place. A shadow moved in and out of the light, and then the entrance was again closed.

Maki kept his vision firm, and stifled a cry of surprise.

It was Baela.

She moved towards the grotto hunched over, eyes wide with excitement. Her bare feet made no sound on the rock as she pirouetted on one foot to glance down the tunnel and back again, then she was down on hands and knees, scrambling into his sleeping quarters and somehow avoiding the pattern of pebbles he had placed there. Carefully, and silently, she searched his bedding, finding both weapons and then rewrapping them, leaving nothing apparently disturbed. He waited for her to take something, and felt disappointed when she did not, but the invasion of his privacy and discovery of the weapons was enough to kindle a dangerous anger in him, and so when he moved it was like a mountain cat striking for the kill, and she only had time to turn her head slightly before he was on her, one hand clamping down tightly over her mouth, the other pulling her arm far up behind her back and driving her face-first into his bedding.

“What brings you to my bed, little one?” he growled into her ear. She made a muffled groan, and breath exploded from her nostrils, but otherwise there was no motion beneath his heavy weight, no panicky thrashing about, and so he held her down with a knee while reaching for a small, hide bag ordinarily used for carrying dried meat. When his hand came off her mouth he heard a sharp intake of breath as she prepared to scream, then crammed the hide in as hard as he could and tied it in place with a leather thong crushing her golden hair to the back of her head. With another thong he tied her hands together at the small of her back, then flipped her over and straddled her feather-light body as she looked straight up into his eyes, drowning him in their blueness, and his groin was instantly aching from the hardness of an erection. He spread her legs, pressing against her, but there was no reaction; the blue eyes looked steadily into his without sign of fear or panic.

“Little darting one, they call you, now you don’t move so fast. Have you been introduced to adult pleasures yet? No? Perhaps you aren’t yet old enough to bleed, but no matter to me. Shall I initiate you, then slit your throat so you won’t get into other’s possessions anymore? Hmmm?”

He pressed harder, feeling her little mound, and for an instant imagining her rising to meet him, but then she shook her head slightly from side to side, still without fear, and something inside him opened up, releasing the anger, calming him. Sudden realization came that as future Keeper of The Memories, what he was doing was a pardonable but undignified act with a female barely beyond childhood, yet she was of Hanken purity, and weren’t they all to die? Perhaps, but not just yet, and besides, some selectivity might be wise. She was intelligent, resourceful and attractive to him, despite her age and heritage, otherwise why would he be straddling her with his organ hard as a spear, and her throat still intact? She would grow up remembering the mercy of her elder, and giver of The Visions. Maki. Her master.

The flint blade jumped into his hand, and Baela’s eyes widened in horror as he pressed it against her throat. He felt fear, now, and leaned over so that their faces were only inches apart. “I will make an agreement with you,” he whispered. “If you do not scream, I will not hurt you, but otherwise your blood is on my hands, and your parents will die immediately after you. Do you understand this?”

Baela nodded, and made a muffled sound in response.

Maki probed at her mind, and saw nothing. How strange, he thought. Nothing at all.

“No sound, now, as I pull this from your mouth.” He pulled the gag down over her chin so it covered her throat. Baela took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. His face was still close, organ still hard and erect, but her body was motionless.

“When I look into your mind, I see nothing. Why is that, little one? How is it that you block my entrance so, when I can enter you in other ways?” He pressed against her again, and she looked confused.

“Remember, I said I won’t hurt you. But what were you doing in my things? You know I sleep here, you know all my belongings are here. Are you a thief? Must I disgrace your parents over your deed?”

“No, please, don’t tell my parents about this! They won’t let me leave the caves again if you do. Please!” Baela’s voice was a whisper, pleading with him, softening his heart.

“But what you’ve done is wrong. And how is it you know of my trick with the pebbles? When you entered here you disturbed not one of them. Can it be Baela has abilities we’re not aware of, abilities not expected in a Hanken?” Maki thought of the earlier, disquieting feelings, and the pounding of his heart. “Can Baela be some new creature in our midst?”

Baela shook her head back and forth, and a little tear welled up in one eye before trickling down her face. “Please don’t tell my parents; I can’t stand staying inside all the time. You get to go outside, and make long journeys over days and days. I want to do that, too, but they won’t let me. They say I’m too young; well, I’m not! You go out and return with things you’ve found and, well, I want to see and touch them, but I know you won’t like it, so—I look when you’re not around. I never hurt anything, and I’m not a thief! Please don’t tell anyone!” Now the tears flowed freely, and she was sobbing and lying there helpless, hands still tied behind her.

Maki felt merciful. And he suddenly felt badly about dominating the diminutive Hanken female beneath him. Despite her miserable heritage, something about her touched him deeply, and not just in a sexual way, although that was also present. She had spirit, and a sense of adventure, most unusual in a female. He sat up straight, hands on hips, looking down at her with great seriousness.

“Do you see your error, then, Baela?”

“Oh yes. Please let me up. I promise not to do it again, but maybe sometimes you can show me the things you find outside, and when I get older I can carry, and cook for the warriors like you who dare to explore the Hinchai lands.”

“They are not Hinchai lands for long,” said Maki softly, then quickly, “I’ll let you up, now, but what happened here and what you’ve seen here is between us. If you tell anyone, I will denounce you as a thief, and your parents will be disgraced. You can imagine what they will do to you after that.” He pulled her up into a sitting position, and loosened her hands with two sharp tugs on the thong. She rubbed her wrists, nodding her head in agreement with him.

“I won’t say anything at all, but someday—someday—can I travel with you, far away from here?”

What power she had over his heart; he marveled at the compassion he suddenly felt, both the physical and emotional attraction for her, yet when he probed at her mind he felt only a little fear, and perhaps excitement. At being close to him? “We will see,” he said, and she smiled sweetly at him.

She scrambled out of his sleeping quarters, and went straight to the cave entrance, turning with a smile. “It is still light, and I’ve found the nest of a hunting bird with new babies in it. They like me.” She pushed aside the branches at the entrance, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Maki returned to the main cavern for a day of conversation, eating, and dozing in the company of his father and mother. Later in the day, his light sleep was disturbed by the sudden vision of a giant hunting bird soaring high in the sky, then descending on him with outstretched, bloody talons striking at his eyes.

* * * * * * *

Hidaig’s journey to the west consumed eight days for the round trip, and was less than successful. Meandre was even more hostile than expected, giving them an exceptionally brief audience for a Keeper, and asking that all warriors be billeted in the forest surrounding the small cluster of caves occupied by his band.

The old Tenanken still spoke with bitterness about the break between Hidaig and Anka, without sympathy for Hidaig’s desire to be a warrior-captain, babbling constantly about Anka’s spirituality and compassion until Hidaig feared he would lose his own control and crush skulls. A few warriors were recruited for his efforts, but for the most part they were near-outcasts who had been found undesirable by the females of the band, primitive minds stimulated only by food, bloodletting and sexual pleasures. But they were adequate for his purposes, and they had weapons of their own.

One recruit stood out from the others: quiet intelligence, quick to understand and follow orders, curious about strategy for the coming battle, and constantly alert. Hidaig was immediately suspicious, and watched him constantly. Twice he followed this recruit late at night when the man quietly drifted away from camp to sit by a tree, watching a game trail for no obvious reason, then returning to camp without incident. But on the third night of the march, the recruit made rendezvous with a runner from Meandre, passing on accurate information on force size and attack time, Hidaig himself sitting only a few meters away listening to the entire conversation. When the recruit returned to camp, Hidaig followed the runner towards Anka’s caverns for an hour before leaping at him from the darkness, slitting his throat with a flint blade, then disemboweling him in the middle of the trail his band would travel on the following day.

Hidaig prided himself on a sense of the dramatic. The following day he asked Meandre’s young spy to join him on point, walking a hundred paces ahead of the others. He enjoyed the sudden gasp as the young one saw the intestines of his runner strung in long loops over the trail ahead, the doomed look when he saw what was in Hidaig’s eyes, and the pitiful cry of despair as he fled down the trail, feet splashing in human goo until Hidaig’s heavy spear pierced his spine so that he thumped heavily to the ground to shiver a moment before dying. Hidaig ordered the bodies cut into several pieces and buried in shallow graves accessible to the scavengers who would remove all evidence of death within a few days, and then they hurried on to where a few old females waited with eagerness for the attentions of new warrior males.

For two weeks they ate and drank and screwed, and then, forty-strong, they marched to a rendezvous with Han, who awaited them at a rocky prominence within sight of Baela’s hiding tree.

She had watched Han set up camp his first day there.