The Warlock Wandering (15 page)

Yorick shook his head, looking dazzled. "Odd bunch of primitives they've got here."

"Must be Cholly and his educational force." Rod shrugged. "I'm surprised he didn't quote the last IDE census at you."

"No, but he did finally get around to praising my patriotism. Almost as an afterthought. Then he fed me some sort of line about how literate cultures always destroy oral cul-tures, then swallow them up or kill off their members." Rod just stared at her for a moment. Then he said, "Not exactly what I usually think of as a call to arms."

"Well, it could have been, if he hadn't sounded like some damn professor!"

Rod wondered at her irritability. Of course, Chomoi was always touchy... "So what did he say to comfort you?"

"Nothing." Chomoi turned away in disgust. "All of a sudden, he spun around and ran over to the stone step. And believe me, he can sprint!"

"Primitives stay in good physical shape," Yorick assured her.

"Not that good! I swear he could've run a horse race without the horse!" She shook her head, exasperated. "He got there just in time, too. He barely set foot on the stone, and the sun came up."

"Natural sense of timing," Yorick said.

"Which some people don't have." Rod fixed him with a beady eye.

Chomoi shook her head in exasperation. "Talk about a wasted night!"

"Oh, I don't know." Rod pursed his lips. "At least, now we're pretty sure he didn't want anybody to know which tribe the corpse came from. That's something."

"Not much," Chomoi snapped, but Gwen smiled with gentle amusement. "Thou shouldst not be so aggrieved, solely for cause that he did not sway to thy charms." Rod's eyebrows shot up as he turned to look at her. Chomoi sat very still, paling. Then she heaved a sigh.

"All right, so my feminine pride's been hit. How'd you know, Ms.?"

Gwen answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "The lilt of thy voice, the tilt of thine head. Thou art quite knowledgeable in the use of thy womanhood, art thou not?"

"I've gotten pretty good at it," Chomoi admitted, "ever since I found out that the Wolmen have a very stiff code of honor where women are concerned—especially unmarried ones. It was such a welcome relief from my fellow colonists!"

"Also safer?" Rod guessed.

Chornoi nodded, chagrined. "I've always been a favorite with them, and not just because I was disaffected. Maybe they all thought I'd make a nice addition to their lodges, I don't know—but it was nice to be treated like a lady again after all these years. And I got to be pretty good at flirting." She sounded vaguely surprised.

Rod frowned. "But if their code of honor was so stiff that they wouldn't even try to seduce you..."

"Oh, I didn't say that!" Chornoi glared icicles at him.

"They all did, always, every single one. That was what was so nice about it. I could flirt all I wanted to, then say 'No,'

and they'd accept it. Even if they didn't want to, they'd stop right away."

"But this Hwun did not attempt to seduce thee?"

"Not a bit, not the tiniest flirt. Not even aTeer, let alone a bedroom eye."

Rod cocked his head to the side. "But it sounded as though he was interested in you."

114 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 115

"Oh, yeah! In who I was, and why I was there, but beyond that... Well, he didn't even seem to be aware that I was female!"

Yorick shook his head. "Odd. Definitely odd. Anomalous, in fact. Y' might expect that kind of thing in a civilized culture, but..."

"Whoa! Hold it!" Chomoi's palm went up. "What makes you so sure the Wolmen aren't civilized?"

"Because the word means 'citified,'" Yorick answered, irritated. "At least pick legitimate nits, will you?"

"Yet wherefore wouldst thou look for such behavior in cities, yet not in the country?" Gwen asked.

"Because it takes a higher degree of technology to build cities than to build temporary villages," Yorick said. "I suppose I really should have said 'highly-technological,'

instead of 'civilized.' I mean, can you really call it a 'city'

if it's only got a hundred thousand people, and not a single factory?"

"Yes," Rod said, with conviction.

Yorick shrugged. "All right, so we're down to definitions. Me, I think of industrial ugliness as a 'city'—you know, steam engines, power looms, railroads, factories..."

"No, I don't know." Rod shook his head. "I didn't study that much archaeology. But I can play straight man—'Why would you expect a man from an industrial civilization to not even notice that a woman was a woman?'" Yorick frowned. "Well, maybe not 'expect', but at least not be surprised by. In the industrial culture. Major, you make progress by putting each item into its own separate pigeonhole, so you can control it and assemble it with a lot of other things into whatever new gadget you want—and what you do with your tools, you also do with your minds. So the industrial man starts seeing 'emotion' as one aspect of the mind, and 'intellect' as another, and he puts each one into its own separate pigeonhole in his soul, where it can't get in the other's way. So you might not be surprised to find that a leader who was currently dealing with a major problem, might have sex safely pigeonholed out of the way for the time being."

"But to the point where he wouldn't even notice that a woman was a woman?" Chomoi stared, appalled.

"Oh, he'd notice it, all right—but he'd ignore i>

"Even to the point of not responding as a man?" Yorick shrugged. "What can I tell you? It's possible. But the Wolman culture isn't industrial—it's tribal, with a very basic technology that concentrates on wholeness and individuality. They see everything as weaving together into one great big configuration—and sex as a natural part of life, just like every other part. Feelings and thoughts are naturally interwoven in a culture like that. The one leads to the other, in an endless circle."

Rod pursed his lips. "Are you trying to tell me that Hwun wasn't reacting like a true tribal chieftain?" Yorick stood still with his mouth open. Then he closed it, disgruntled. "Well, yeah, something like that. Right."

"Well, I'd say you pinned that one right on the donkey. But there's something that really bothers me about that guy's attitude." He scowled off into space, chewing at the thought mentally for a few minutes, then shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't pin it down."

"Give it time," Yorick advised. "It'll come home."

"Wagging a tale behind it, no doubt."

The door at the top of the stairs slammed, and Rod was on his feet, one hand on his dagger.

"Nay, my lord." Gwen laid a hand on his forearm. "'Tis more likely a friend than an enemy."

Boots appeared on the stairs, marching down, with loose green trousers tucked into them. Then a white apron appeared, tucked over an ample belly; then a barFel chest and bull shoulders, with Cholly's grinning face on top of them, and a huge tray piled high with steaming goodies in his 776 Christopher Stasheff

hands. "Thought yer might like a nibble. After all, the sun's almost up."

"And our time with it?" Rod reached out to help lift the tray down.

"Here, now! Away with yer!" Cholly swung the tray up out of his reach. "Can't leave these things t' base amateurs, yer know! Sit down, sit down! The pleasure in a meal is as much in the service as in the cuisine."

Rod put his hands up, palms out. "Innocent, sheriff." He sat down.

"There! That's a bit better." Cholly kicked a crate into the middle of their circle and set the tray down on it, then picked up platters and began to fill them with eggs and sausage, muffins, toast, steak, and fried potatoes. "It's a local bird does these eggs, now, not yer average Terran hen. But she's a good fowl, and takes pride in her work. Lower in cholesterol, too." He set the plate on Yorick's lap. "And I won't tell yer what the steak was in its earlier incarnation. Just relax and enjoy it."

"Good, though," Yorick mumbled around a mouthful. Rod eyed the sausages warily as they passed him, bound for Chomoi. "What's in the cartridges?"

"Pork." Cholly heaped a platter for him. "Naught but good old pork. Major. Where yer finds human folk, yer finds pigs. And why not?" He passed the plate to Rod and began to load another. "They're tasty, portable, and thrives on yer garbage. So what if they're omery, and got nasty tempers? Just give 'em some mud, and they'll rest content." He set the plate in front of Gwen and turned to serve Yorick and Chomoi, but found they'd served themselves while he wasn't looking. "Ah, well-a-day!" he sighed, and folded his arms, watching the Gallowglasses dine with enthusiasm.

"Eh, it does my old heart good to see the young'uns tuckin'

into their tucker like that!"

"Couldn't be more than a few years older than we are," Rod mumbled.

"Don't bet on it, laddie." Cholly wagged a forefinger at him. "I'm all of fifty."

"Why, he is ten years my senior!" Gwen said brightly.

"A positive antique," Rod agreed. "But he cooks well, so we won't hold it against him."

"Have it as you will, it does my heart good to see folk enjoy my food." But Cholly's face puckered into a frown.

"Yer surely do seem the carefree pair, don't yer?"

"What?" Rod looked up, surprised. "Oh. Just because we don't seem particularly worried?" He shrugged and turned back to his plate. "We aren't."

"Wherefore ought we be?" Gwen looked up in wide-eyed innocence.

"Well..." Cholly coughed delicately into his fist. "There is this little matter of a million or so wild savages who're thirsting fer yer blood."

"He's so clinical with his descriptions, isn't he?"

"Aye, my lord. Dry and bare of emotion."

"It don't worry yer." Cholly tipped his head toward them, eyebrows lifted.

Rod shook his head. "Why should they? We can always escape."

"We do excel at quick disappearing," Gwen confirmed.

"'Tis merely a matter of waiting thine opportunity." Cholly looked astounded. "Then why not escape now?" Rod shook his head. "Don't want to create an incident." Gwen nodded. "When we do depart, we'd liefer not leave a war in our wake."

"I mean," Rod explained, "if we don't go to that trial, what's going to happen to Wolman-colonist politics here?" Cholly was still for a moment, gazing off into space. Then he said, "'Tis a point well-taken—and 'tis good of yer to care. But ought yer not have some concern fer yerselves?" -'

"We do," Gwen assured him.

"We meant what we said—if push comes to shove, we 118 Christopher Stasheff

can always disappear, fade into the woodwork. But there would still be the little problem of getting off this planet," Rod explained.

Cholly leaned back on one leg, scratching where his sidebum had been. "Aye. There'd be some difficulty to that. That's why they made the whole planet a prison, now that yer mention it. Mind yer, there's a-plenty of places to hide here on Wolmar; there're some patches of mountains that not even the Wolmen would bother to go to, but as would have game enough to support just a man and his wife, and mayhap even a family."

Gwen shook her head and swallowed. "Nay. "Tis this matter of family, even as thou sayest. I must needs return to them, look thou."

Cholly just gazed at her, brooding, his lower lip thrust out. "Aye, I can understand that. But where be they. Missus?" Gwen opened her mouth to answer, but Rod said quickly,

"On another planet, far away."

"Aren't they all!" Cholly sighed. He set his hands on his hips and stared up at the ceiling beams. "Aye, then, 'tis needful indeed. But I can't give yer any help if y're out to launch, in a manner of speakin'. My men only work dirtside."

'"S okay." Rod shrugged. "We weren't really expecting anything."

"Yet 'tis good of thee to offer thine aid," Gwen said softly.

Chomoi looked up from her plate and shifted a mouthful of food over into her cheek. "That reminds me, speaking of people hiding out in Wolman territory..." Cholly's attention shifted to her, with total intensity. "Say," he commanded.

"Strangers." Chornoi finished chewing and swallowed.

"I've spent most of the last month wandering around among the Wolmen..."

"That, I know." Cholly said. "And I'll not argue that they're more considerate, and more mannerly than our colTHE WARLOCK WANDERING 119

onists—and if a lady says 'No,' they'll agree, and not take exception. After all, they've plenty of women on hand. But how did this bring you knowledge of strangers?" Chomoi shrugged. "It takes one to know one. I'm sure their disguises fooled the Wolmen, but I saw through them—

maybe because I was looking from the outside."

"Indeed," Cholly breathed. "And what have these false Wolmen been doing?"

"Nothing much. Claiming a free lunch, and a place in the shade for a few hours, which the Wolmen were glad to supply—that good old primitive code of hospitality...."

"Members of the same tribe, no doubt," Cholly breathed.

"Oh, sure, if they'd come from a different tribe, that would have been a horse of a different color! But being of the same hue, if you follow me, they had the green-carpet treatment...."

"The green carpet being grass?" Rod asked.

"Of course." Chomoi gave him an irritated glance. "So the visitors just sat down, filled up, and discussed the fate of the world."

"For some hours, yer said?"

"Two or three. Then they drifted on. But afterwards I heard the occasional Wolman talking against General Shacklar and us colonists."

"Not exactly what I'd call a positive symptom," Yorick said.

"Nay, certes," Gwen breathed.

"What complaints had they?" Cholly asked. "The Wolmen hailed Shacklar as the voice of reason, right from the start. The only gripes about him came from Terra, and she was only objecting, because our good General-Governor didn't need her!"

"Ever the way with women," Yorick sighed, and Chornoi favored him with her skewerest glance. -»

"Of course, she hasn't been complaining lately." Cholly noted. "How can she, when she's cut us off?" Yorick started to answer, but Chornoi snapped, "Can it!" 120