Climate of Change (19 page)

Then, after a pause, Hero agreed also.

They reached the mottled wall of ice. Once again Keeper marveled
that such a thing existed. How huge it was! Where was the end of it? Was this the end of the world? Where it got too cold for land, and turned to ice? So there might be nothing beyond it. Yet there was the sea, and it went on past the ice. How he longed to explore that!

“I just thought of something,” Crenelle said. “Suppose
I
spy the turd, or the beast? What prize do I get?”

“Then you get to keep what you have found,” Hero said.

Keeper bit his tongue to keep from laughing. His brother had scored again.

“Thank you so much for your generosity,” the woman said, making a noise as if spitting out something distasteful. “There's nothing I'd rather have than a fresh mammoth turd.”

“It would grow some very rich plants,” Keeper offered.

Meanwhile they were tracking the huge creature. Its trail was not hard to decipher, as it had been grazing as it went, tearing up whole sedge plants to chew on. The ground near the ice was damp and a bit mushy, and there were a number of plain prints. At one point there was a clear ice slick, where the animal had stood against the wall and gouged out clean ice to slake its thirst.

“Good idea,” Hero said, and broke off a sliver of ice for himself. The others did the same. Water was not necessarily easy to come by, in this dry level land.

Hero, first to resume travel, paused. “I see it,” he murmured.

They joined him. Sure enough, there was a fresh pile of manure that could only be from the elephant. He had won the first contest.

“Here is your prize,” Crenelle said, pleased. She stood close to him, took his face in her hands, angled it to suit her, and gave him a firm and lingering kiss.

Keeper looked away. It wasn't just jealousy, though that was a component. It was that they did make an appealing couple, and Hero surely was more deserving of her favor than Keeper was. He was older, and larger, and stronger, and better in hunting and combat. And she plainly desired him. Keeper was simply in the way.

But he couldn't let go. Crenelle was too appealing a woman. He would probably lose her, but he would do it by failing, not by giving up.

They moved on, carefully, for it was their mission to spy the mammoth, not to spook it. They needed to learn its habits and trails, so as to know how to hunt it effectively.

Hero had been leading the way, but now he slowed. He bent over, reached inside his legging, and scratched. Itches were chronic; bugs got inside clothing, seeking whatever section of flesh was not protected by the repellent juice. Keeper went on ahead, not waiting, rounding the bend of the ice wall.

There was the mammoth. “I see it,” he breathed, awed by the grandeur of the beast. It was feeding on a richer patch of brush, not paying attention. Mammoths had few if any natural enemies, apart from man, so tended to be careless. This one was huge and shaggy, twice the height of a man, with enormous twisting white tusks and a trunk that reached down to touch the ground. Its feet were massive stumps, while its eyes were relatively tiny. What a creature!

“So you do,” Crenelle said, coming to stand beside him. “You will have me for the night.”

So he would. He had forgotten that for the moment. But now he realized something: Hero had paused at a most propitious time. But for that stray itch, Hero would have been the first to round this bend and spy the quarry. Hero, seasoned hunter that he was, must have known, and deliberately given the first sight to Keeper. Giving him Crenelle, for the night.

He hoped she didn't realize that. But he feared that she did. Should he tell her to give the night to his brother? Keeper wanted her so much, but it was complicated.

“No, I'll do it,” she murmured, reading the doubt on his face. “He wants you to have it.”

“Sorry,” he said, his emotions uncomfortably mixed.

They studied the mammoth, and spied out its paths. By evening Keeper had an excellent notion of the creature's habits, and concluded that they could indeed take it.

That night Haven came to share lodging with her brothers, yielding her place to Keeper. He joined Crenelle, still mixed in emotion. This night was a gift of Hero, with whom Crenelle would rather have been; how could he reconcile that with his own presence here?

“Let me make one thing clear,” she told him as she got them both naked under piled blanket skins, and got Whitepaw comfortably settled by their feet. “It's not that I think you are inferior. You're not. Your way with animals is wonderful. I just always thought of marrying someone older than I, rather than younger. So I don't take you as seriously as perhaps I should. I know it's your turn. If I hadn't been so insistent on a rape, I could have married one of your brothers long ago. So I am obliged to give you a fair chance, not just because your brothers want it, but because you deserve it in your own right. So here it is: fight me, rape me now, and you will win me.”

“I can't do that,” he said, ashamed.

“I won't even resist. I will just lie here unmoving, telling you no, that I brought you here for nothing, making you angry.”

She was making it so easy! But he was still unable. “I can't.”

“You can't,” she agreed. “Any more than your brothers could. And I don't care to do what Rebel did with my brother. Very well; we'll do it the easy way. For this night only.” She rolled into him, and put one leg over his, pressing against him. “Come into me, you hesitant suitor.”

He did. But he wished he could have made even the semblance of a rape, and won her, her way. He felt so inadequate, even in the throes of the delight she gave him.

They slept, sated yet not satisfied. Being with her like this was sheer joy, yet hollow because it was so much less than it should have been. He wondered whether he would dream of performing the rape she demanded, and wake to know it wasn't true.

He woke at night, and found her sleeping curled, facing away from him. Desire sprang anew: he could still do it. He could grab her as she slept, and penetrate her cleft before she could react or resist, and it would be rape. She would wake to find it accomplished. He would never have a better chance.

He put a hand on her hip and moved in close. She continued to sleep, not responding to his touch. Her flesh was soft and evocative. He knew exactly where to go. His hard member was right there at the aperture, ready for the thrust. In a moment he would be inside her, and it would be done.

But he didn't. He couldn't take a woman without her consent, even if she had given her consent for her nonconsent. He just couldn't.

“Damn!” he muttered.

“Damn,” she echoed.

“You knew!” he said, chagrined.

“Of course I knew. How long do you think I have been here like this, waiting for you to wake?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Well, go on in, so it's not a total waste.”

He did so, and it was phenomenal. But he had forfeited his chance for the real accomplishment.

“You're a decent man,” she said. “I respect that, really, Keeper. It's just that . . .” She shrugged, and he felt the motion all the way inside. “But if you catch me asleep again, don't hesitate. Because after tonight I'll be back after Hero. You know that.”

“I know it,” he agreed.

They finished and slept again. He hoped he really would wake to find her truly asleep, and have the courage to take her, but he knew it wouldn't happen.

He dreamed she was bestriding him, in the manner they had seen Rebel do with Harbinger. He woke to find that she was, but she did not take it the last step. “I can't do it either,” she said, disgusted.

He laughed, without much humor. “Do it anyway, so it's not a total waste.”

She set him in her, and lay on him, squirming, forcing him to spend. “This is ridiculous.”

“I think we really would be good for each other, if we could find a way to marry.”

“It would be good with any of the three of you,” she said seriously. “And I mean to have one of you, some way.”

“Some way,” he agreed.

They slept again. This time neither woke. Keeper was disappointed to discover that dawn had arrived, and the camp was stirring. Crenelle had given him several chances, and he had squandered them all. As he had perhaps known he would.

They got up and dressed. It was time for the hunt. Maybe, he thought despairingly, he would be the one to make the fatal thrust, and win a complete favor from her. Yet even then, he knew, he would not be able to ask her to set aside her requirement.

Craft approached him. “I have made a new bow that I think will work well for you. It's larger than usual, and requires a longer arrow, but has more power. For this hunt, we need power.”

“Yes,” Keeper agreed somewhat tightly. He was excited by the prospect of the hunt, but apprehensive too, because he knew how dangerous those huge beasts could be. “But shouldn't you or Hero be the one to use it?”

“Hero will use the spear-thrower, which gives a harder thrust than any arrow. Haven will keep him supplied. I will make sure of all the weapons. You will do better with the arrows, knowing exactly where to put them.”

“In the eye,” Keeper said. “That mammoth is so big and fleshy that we'd have trouble reaching its heart even if it stood still and let us try for an hour at close range.”

Craft laughed. “And it won't do that!” he agreed. “So you try this bow, and see if you can hit an eye.”

Keeper tried. He set up a hide target thirty paces distant and drew the first long arrow. The feel was strange, but the draw was smooth and strong. He had to exert more power than he was used to, but seemed better able to do that, with this powerful bow. Craft knew what he was doing, as usual.

He sighted along the arrow and loosed it. He scored on the target. It was almost as if he had thrust the arrow there with his hand, from up close. It had gone right where he aimed it.

He tried again, and scored again. This was indeed a fine instrument, and these were fine arrows. But could he score on a moving monster's tiny eye? He doubted it. Not with one arrow, or two.

But Craft had made ten arrows. That might be enough. That had to be enough.

They moved out. Keeper called the dogs, and they bounded along
ahead of him, happy to be participating. Crenelle fell into step beside him. “I'm your spear carrier,” she said.

He was thrilled, but doubtful. “I thought you'd prefer to help your brother, or—”

“Rebel's helping Harbinger. Haven's helping Hero. I'm helping you. Craft made the assignments. He knows what he's doing. This is serious business.”

Keeper nodded, gratified. They were still arranging things so that he could be close to Crenelle, and she wasn't objecting. He might be the least of the brothers, but they kept peace in the family by being fair to each other. It was still his turn, it seemed.

But if he failed to kill the mammoth with a shot through the eye, his turn would be finished. Then Crenelle would go to one of his brothers.

They reached the wall of ice and spread out. They did not try to go silently, for the mammoth would soon enough be aware of them. They would harry it and try to drive it into the sea, where it would be much easier prey.

They spied it, foraging against the wall. They spread out, barring its escape to the plain. Whichever way it ran, it would have to pass a man. If it didn't run, they would close in, but leave a channel along the wall.

Hero and Haven, at the northern side, started hooting. The mammoth lifted its head, gazing at them. It didn't understand small creatures that acted as if they were dangerous. It backed away, then turned and strode along the wall toward the south. Exactly as they wanted.

Harbinger and Rebel paced it, not making noise as long as it was going the right way. Craft followed them, carrying a bundle of spears.

Keeper waited. He was south of the mammoth, and would let it pass, because the sea was not far beyond. The ice and the sea: that was the trap.

But the beast was too canny to be herded far. It suddenly turned and charged Harbinger. Now Rebel sounded off, ululating. The mammoth, surprised by this new sound, turned its head to look at her.

Harbinger hurled his spear. He had grown proficient with the
spear-thrower, and the shot was good. The spear struck the beast's shaggy shoulder and lodged.

The mammoth squealed in pain and rage. It whirled and started north, the spear bobbing. The wound had to be painful, but not critical.

Hero flung his spear. This struck the animal on the head, between the eyes—and bounced off the heavy bone there. That was the problem with an animal this massive. Flesh wounds didn't stop it, and neither did bone wounds.

But it did cause the mammoth to change direction again. It ran south, while the women gave Harbinger and Hero second spears. They pursued the creature, spear-throwers lifted, ready to throw again when there was a suitable target.

“Here it comes,” Crenelle said. There was a catch in her voice; she was nervous, if not frightened. But she remained beside him, holding his spare arrows.

“I'll try a shot,” Keeper decided. Herding the animal was fine, but if he could take it down as it passed, that was better.

He waited until the mammoth was between them and the wall. Then he drew and loosed. The arrow struck the animal's wrinkled ear. He had not allowed sufficiently for its motion.

Crenelle handed him another arrow. He nocked it and drew—as the mammoth suddenly turned toward him, pausing. It started toward him.

He loosed another, but this time hadn't allowed for the turning head. The arrow broke against a tusk.

Now the mammoth decided that he was the enemy. It trumpeted and started toward him.

Crenelle gave him another arrow. Then she stood, setting down the arrows. “It's going to get by us, and escape onto the plain. I'll drive it back.”