Kiteman of Karanga (8 page)

At that moment Rolf entered. Rika had sent him to the village to leave word of their safe return. He was wearing the wolf's-head cap that had belonged to the leader of the Northmen.

"Karl, you should have seen it!" Rolf shouted. "One charge and it was over. The lizards reared up and clawed the Northmen and bit them to pieces. And the ones they missed, the riders finished off with their spears. They were great."

"Rolf!" Rika said with such anger that it brought her brother up short. "Be quiet and listen to me. Those Hrithdon are
not
great. They murdered our parents and left our grandfather for dead. They think that we are their slaves, and our sheep are their sheep. They didn't come to protect us yesterday. They were protecting their property. Now take that putrid wolf cap off your head."

Rika stormed out of the room, while Rolf stood with downcast eyes, holding the Northman's cap in his hands.

"It's all right, Rolf," Karl said. "Rika may hate the Hrithdon, but they also just saved your lives, so I think they were great too."

Just then there was a loud rapping at the front door. When Rolf answered it, Athgar came in. He sat down on the bench next to Karl, while Rika came and stood in the kitchen doorway.

"Where's your grandfather, Rika?"

"Still up there," Rika said with a look of disgust directed toward the mountains. "He said there was no point in wasting a day's good grazing. He'll be back with the flock this evening."

Athgar shook his head. "Gardo amazes me. No wonder he was wealthy before the Hrithdon conquest. When he returns, ask him to come see me." The village leader turned to Karl. "Sometime soon I'd like to talk with you too."

"Will the Hrithdon come to get me now that they know I'm here?" Karl asked nervously.

The lines around Athgar's eyes deepened. "Karl, the Hrithdon know about you now, but so far Murthdur hasn't said anything. The Hrithdon have a huge empire to tend, and they may not be interested in you at all." Athgar's broad smile reminded Karl of Bron. "We recognize what you've done for us, Karl, and we certainly won't just give you over to them. For now, we'll have to wait and see."

Karl watched the huge man leave. He liked Athgar's frankness, even though it had not helped his own uneasiness. And who was Murthdur? Even the name sounded evil.

Karl went into the kitchen where Rika was giving Rolf a lunch to take to their grandfather. "Who's Murthdur?" Karl asked her when Rolf left.

"He's the Imperial Magistrate who runs this part of the Hrithdon Empire," Rika answered. "He's absolutely ruthless; he has the heart and soul of a dread lizard. If you ever see a long red banner with a white lizard on it, that's Murthdur's flag."

"But he must live a long way from here. I'd never see him, would I?"

"You might," answered Rika. "His castle is in the city of Ithdon, about a week's walk from here, though the Hrithdon can travel much faster on their lizards. He comes here about twice a year to squeeze more sheep from us. But he doesn't press Athgar as hard as the other village leaders because Athgar captured his brother and spared his life during the conquest." Rika smiled. "Athgar says Murthdur got his start selling black market oja."

"There is black market oja?" Karl exclaimed loudly.

"Shhhhh!
The walls might have ears. Yes, of course, even in the local markets if you know where to ask."

"Rolf told me that the penalty for being caught with any oja is death!" Karl said.

"You've got to understand what that little bean means to the Hrithdon, Karl. Hrithdon guardsmen have to rub themselves with oja oil every day. Without it, their own lizards would tear them to pieces. So they have to have lots of oja and they have to control it completely. Without oja, their vast empire would fall apart."

"That's a powerful bean," mused Karl. "I'd like to see one sometime."

Rika leaned toward him and spoke in a low voice. "Wait till tonight. Then I'll show you some."

That evening, they sat in the front room of the cozy cottage and built a fire in the fireplace. After Rolf had gone to bed and Gardo had left to see Athgar, Rika went into the back room and came out with a tiny wooden box. She knelt down by the hearth, opened the box, and tipped the contents into her hand. Karl came forward to look. In the center of her palm Rika held half a dozen small brown beans. Karl opened his hand and Rika poured the beans into it.

"They look like ordinary beans," Karl said.

"Except they taste horrible. But they have a smell that's unforgettable. Here, I'll crush one so you can smell it."

Rika took a bean and Karl put the rest back in the box. She placed the bean on the stone hearth, and taking the rock they used as a doorstop, she brought it down heavily. But the rough surface of the rock struck the bean unevenly, and instead of being crushed, the bean popped into the fire. They could see it among the bright coals. Because of the intense heat, the bean began to sweat out its oil. Suddenly, the liquid oil caught fire, and the oja bean burned with a flame so bright that it cast their shadows on the opposite wall.

Rika looked at Karl in astonishment. "I didn't know oja burned like that," she said.

"Lets try another," Karl said.

When Rika dropped the second bean into the fire, the same thing happened. Again the small bean sweated oil that burned so brightly that it lit up the dark corners of the room.

"Well," said Rika, "if you ever wanted a torch, oja oil would be better than pine pitch."

"Let me try crushing one," Karl said, and taking one more bean, he rolled the rock over it several times. Then he bent down to sniff the brown pieces. A pleasant fragrance like nuts and flowers came from the crushed bean. Karl then sprinkled the pieces in the fire, and it blazed again in a half dozen places.

"Did you get these on the black market?" he asked.

Rika nodded. "I paid a lot for them too. I don't know why I bought them, though. I only got ten and it takes the oil from about fifty beans to make a day's supply."

"Where do the Hrithdon get all their oja beans?" Karl asked.

"They grow them. There are thousands of oja fields in the valleys around Ithdon."

"It would be easy to make oja oil if you could steal some beans from those fields," Karl said.

"You'd never get enough," Rika said. "The oja is no good unless the beans ripen and dry on the stalk. In the autumn when the harvest is drying, there are so many Hrithdon guardsmen protecting the fields that you couldn't get within sight of them."

"And from what I saw of the Hrithdon yesterday, I don't think I'd try," Karl said. But as he spoke a fantastic idea occurred to him. A sense of amazement and power accompanied his racing thoughts, and he saw how it would be possible to strike at the heart of the Hrithdon Empire.

The next morning Karl went to see Athgar. The village leader greeted him warmly and took him into a room at the back of the house. He handed Karl a large bundle of folded leather. Karl felt the thin leather, and his fingers almost tingled. It was terry leather!

"What can you tell me about its quality?" Athgar asked.

"It's good," Karl said. "Not as fine as the leather in my wing, but still very good." Karl looked up at Athgar. "Where did you get this? Do you hunt the terry?"

"Nobody in the Hrithdon empire hunts the terry. I bought it on the black market. Where it came from before that, I don't know. Now look at these." Athgar took a length of terry bone from a pile along the wall.

As he watched, Karl realized what Athgar wished.

"I can't build a kitewing!" he protested. "I'm a flyer, not a craftsman. I've only watched them being built. I've never done it myself."

"But you must know the basics of kitewing construction."

"A simple training wing would be the best I could make," Karl answered.

"That's all we need," Athgar said.

"Do you want to learn to fly?"

"No. I dont want the kitewing for myself, Karl. I want the young people of the village to learn to fly and make their own kitewings. You've already proven how useful they can be."

"Rolf wants to learn," Karl said. "I could start teaching him."

"I'd rather you started with Rika," Athgar said. "Rolf's still too young."

"Rika! She's a girl. Only hunters fly. Women don't hunt. They tan terry leather, grow the gardens, and raise the children."

"We have no hunters in Eftah, Karl. We
all
take care of our sheep. And you know that Rika protects her sheep as well as anybody. Give her a chance and you'll find that she learns quickly."

For a moment, Karl considered what Athgar had said. Was there really a reason he couldn't teach Rika to fly? Perhaps she could do it after all. Would it matter that she was not a hunter? This was Eftah, not Karanga. And having seen the terry leather, he was eager to try his hand at the ancient Karangan craft of kitewing building.

"Well?" asked Athgar. "Will you build a kitewing and teach Rika to fly?"

"Yes, I will," Karl answered.

"Good," said Athgar. "I've arranged with Gardo for you to have the time you need. You can use my barn to work in, and I'll get you any other tools and materials necessary. Karl, we must keep the building of this new kitewing a secret. Everything the villagers know eventually finds its way to the Hrithdon."

Karl promised not to talk about the new kitewing. Full of ideas and plans, he returned to Gardo's house and found Rika.

"Grandfather said you'd be working for Athgar part of the time now. What are you doing for him?" Rika asked.

"I promised to keep it a secret," Karl said. "But there's something else—Athgar wants me to teach you how to fly a kitewing. Do you want to learn?"

"Of course I want to learn," Rika exclaimed. "When can we start?"

"Athgar wants us to start as soon as possible," Karl said.

"Then how about this afternoon?"

Though he had second thoughts about using a fine wing like his Asti for training, Karl agreed.

That afternoon, Karl and Rika began Rika's flying lessons in a nearby pasture. It was a cloudless day, and a gentle breeze was moving up the slope. The conditions were ideal for a first flight.

As Karl helped Rika into the harness of his kitewing, he felt as excited as she was. "Now remember, do everything exactly as I showed you. All set? Go!"

With an excited shout, Rika began to run downhill, and after only a few steps she was airborne. Wingtips shaking, she glided down the pasture and then, according to Karl's instructions, she began to flare back and landed. By the time she had slowed to a walk, Karl had reached her.

"Congratulations, Rika!" Karl shouted. "That was perfect. Lets try it again."

Rika couldn't stop smiling as they walked back up the slope, Karl guiding one wingtip. He reviewed again what she was to do if she landed too high and dropped in, or if she came in flat and could not keep up with her touchdown speed.

The next two flights were as successful as the first, but on the fourth, Rika began to flare back far too high.

"No, Rika, no!" Karl shouted. "Ease it forward."

But his instructions were to no avail. Losing its lift at ten feet, the kitewing plunged to the ground. When Karl arrived, he found a shaken, angry flying student.

"I flared too high," Rika said, reproaching herself.

Karl nodded. "Lets try one more."

This time, Rika made another good landing, and Karl stopped the lesson for the day. He showed Rika how to check the wing over for cuts and abrasions as they wrapped it up and inserted it into its terry-skin cover. They had put the wing away in the barn and were coming around to enter the cottage when they met Gardo by the door.

"I did it, Grandfather!" Rika boasted happily. "I flew!"

Rika went inside, but Gardo motioned Karl to stay. Looking at Gardos face, Karl thought he looked stingier than ever, and sad too.

The old man glared at Karl. "Karangan, I know you saved our flock the other day, so we are in your debt. But I also saw that fall Rika took in your kitewing. Are you trying to kill my only granddaughter?"

"She might kill herself if she forgets to do what I tell her," Karl replied angrily. "Your spying on us won't help, either. If she sees you peeking out of the bushes when she should be concentrating on her flying, it might distract her. Whose fault would it be if she got hurt then?"

The old shepherd stood without speaking. Deliberately he grasped the bottom of his loose shirt and pulled it up beneath his chin, revealing a mass of red and white scars that crisscrossed his chest from navel to shoulders.

"Lizard bites," he said, letting his shirt drop. "I've known enough pain in my life. Rika and Rolf are all I have left. Please remember that." Without saying more, Gardo went back into the cottage.

As the summer progressed, Karl began to feel as if he truly had a home in the mountain village of Eftah. Rika, Rolf, and Gardo were his new family, and Athgar often gave Karl the same kind of advice and encouragement that Bron had. Even the villagers had accepted Karl's presence, and though they did not usually engage him in conversation, they always gave him a friendly greeting when he passed by on the narrow village streets.

To Karl's surprise and satisfaction, Rika's flying lessons progressed well; she learned faster than most of the young hunters of Karanga. She seemed to remember everything Karl said the first time. She thought ahead, and unexpected air currents never took her completely by surprise. But Rika had learned all she could for the time being. Karl didn't want to send her flying away from the pasture. The air currents around mountain ridges and in powerful thermals were too demanding for a beginner alone. In order for him to take her soaring, they needed a second wing.

For this reason more than any other, Karl devoted himself to working on the kitewing he was making in Athgar's barn. The time he had been allowed was not enough, so be had begun spending his evenings in the barn working by the light of several small lamps. Rika had discovered where he was and came to help him, though Karl had been shocked the first time she had appeared with a snack for him. But since she knew anyway, he was grateful for her help, and Athgar did not seem to mind.