Barry Longyear: Enemy Papers

Uhe looked into the depths of its own fire and whispered to the God of the Day Light, "This, then, is your promise of plenty for keeping your Law of Peace, Aakva? Is this the mercy and bounty of the Parent of All?"

There was, for an answer, only silence. There was a cry and Uhe lifted its gaze until it saw a child gnawing upon a piece of cured tent skin, while the child’s parent, a once-proud warrior, watched with envy in its eyes. Near one of the hunters' fires, eight sat waiting for a child to make its last breath. When that breath ended, the pitifully wasted corpse would be apportioned among the hunters. Uhe studied the faces of the hunters and saw that one of them was mouthing the curse of quick death. The curse was for the child. The one who gave the curse was the child’s parent. In the parent’s eyes was only hunger.

There was fear in Uhe’s heart, but its rage chased its fear into the shadows,

It was before that first night’s fire, the sand cold from the night, that Uhe stood before the tribal masters.

Uhe said:

"Bantumeh, great and honored ruler of the masters of the Mavedah, this night you have tasted the flesh of my child, Leuno."

Bantumeh, once tall, powerful and strong, covered its face with its hands. "Your shame is our shame, poor Uhe."

When its hands pulled away, they uncovered a face wrinkled with age, pain, and the scars of many challenges to the rulership of the Mavedah. "Uhe," said Bantumeh. "We have all tasted either child, sibling, parent, or friend this year. There is no choice. To put our minds aside as we eat to keep the Mavedah alive is our sole hope. Your grief is understood; your reminder is out of place."

At the rebuke Uhe did not retire from the ring of masters, but instead pointed east toward the Akkujah Mountains. "There, Bantumeh, is food for the Mavedah."

Bantumeh stood, its face crossed with anger. "You would have the Mavedah violate the tabus? Aakva’s own law? Could we do such a thing, do you not think that I would already have done so?"

A master named Iyjiia, who was the chief of Aakva’s servants, leaped to its feet. "Uhe, this is a beast standing before the masters, not a servant of Aakva!" Iyjiia faced the other masters and filled its image with voice, for Iyjiia was thin and small in stature.

"The law is clear. The Mavedah is forbidden to enter the domain of the Irrvedah, just as the Irrvedah is forbidden to enter the Madah. It is tabu even for us to ask the Irrvedah for food."

Iyjiia faced Uhe and pointed. "Even to wish this is tabu!"

Most of the masters nodded and muttered their agreement. It was a painful law to obey, but its wisdom was understood by all. To violate that law would again bring the wars to Sindie. This was the promise of Aakva, and the wars were too horrible to contemplate.

Uhe held out its arms and faced the night sky. "But I, Uhe, invoke a new vision from Aakva." The masters, and those at the other fires, muttered in astonishment and doubt at Uhe’s words. "Its old law," continued the servant, "was for a time and a place. Aakva speaks to me that the time is changed. Aakva speaks to us all that the place is changed. It is time for a new law."

Iyjiia stood silent, for there was danger in disputing a claim to a vision. If the claim of the young Uhe were false, Uhe would suffer for it. But Iyjiia would pay the same price if it disputed a vision that turned out to be true law. Iyjiia also saw that many members of the tribe had gathered around the ring of masters. Whether the law be true or not, if it promised food it might find support among that gathering crowd of armed hunters.

Iyjiia returned to its place in the ring of masters and said to Uhe, "Tell us your vision."

As was the custom, Uhe unfastened its covering of skins, let them fall from its frame, and stood naked before them all to show the truth of its words.

"Aakva speaks to me now," said the servant. "It speaks of lush mountains to the east, where fat darghat and suda kneel to drink at the cool waters; where the trees are heavy with sweet fruits; the fields crowded with kadda melon and the white grain.

"Every evening Aakva’s fiery fingers point beyond the Akkujah Mountains as a sign. They show me the Diruvedah and the Kuvedah, their bellies bloated with food, their grasslands crowded with game that leaps upon their spears; their children tall and laughing.

"Every morning Aakva points west of the mountains, to this land of famine, and the God of the Day Light says to me, `Uhe, this is my sign that the Mavedah must leave this place. The masters of the Mavedah must go to their clans, tell them of Aakva’s new Law of War, and have them gather at the foot of the Akkujah Mountains where the cliffs of Akkujah fall to the Yellow Sea. From there the God of the Day Light will lead the Mavedah across the mountains, through the land of the Irrvedah, to the Dirudah. And the Mavedah will defeat the Diruvedah and will drive all those who will not submit from the Great Cut and the southern Akkujah into the northern mountains."

Uhe paused, its arms outstretched. Its voice became low and grave as it continued. "The tribes beyond the Akkujah will try to join against us, but too fast will we attack. With the blood command of Aakva at our backs, we will strike through the mountains and across the plains, brushing them all aside. And then we will flood the lands with our victories!

"The Mavedah will rule all!"

Uhe lowered its arms, then stooped and retrieved its coverings. With its skins replaced, Uhe faced Iyjiia "And that is what the God of the Day Light says to me."

Bantumeh studied Uhe. "Wars? Are we to believe that the God of the Day Light inflicts this ancient punishment upon us? What have we done?"

Uhe bowed. "Bantumeh, you are kind and wise. But you are too kind to meet this need of the Mavedah. It matters not what we have done. Following the old law will see the end of the Mavedah. Aakva’s new Law of War will see us, our children, and the Mavedah live."

Uhe looked around at the faces of the hunters crowded about the masters' fire and said, "I see there to be things worse than war. I see our once-proud hunters whimpering and grubbing in the dirt; I see the Mavedah eating now things too low to rank with waste; I see the Mavedah eating now things too precious and sacred to be food. And I see from this the end of the Mavedah."

Uhe faced the ruler of the Mavedah. "Bantumeh, there are things worse than war."

Iyjiia stood and waved its hands back and forth. "You cannot know this, Uhe. The oldest of us has never seen war. And this is only because we all obey Aakva’s laws."

Uhe faced Iyjiia "A tribe does not fight itself, Iyjiia Mavedah does not fight Mavedah. I see a new tribe coming to Sindie. It will be made of every tribe, all of whom are Sindie. Tribe and world will be one. Once there is nothing but Sindie on this world, there can be no war. Thus we will have both peace and plenty. Iyjiia, do you dispute my vision?"

The hunters crowded more closely around the ring of masters, every gaze fixed on the chief of Aakva’s servants. The tips of the hunters' spears glinted in the firelight. The night was still, save for the relentless press of the death drums.

A chief servant of Aakva had a privileged position. Food for its belly, skins for its back, a privileged place in the master’s ring, and shelter of stretched skins to protect against sun and cold. All this was provided by the tribe in exchange for the servant’s studies and visions. To dispute Uhe’s vision would mean ordeal by stoning or fire. And there was always the possibility that Uhe spoke truly. Iyjiia liked its position. Iyjiia was old. "I do not dispute your vision, Uhe."

The roar of approval from the gathered hunters was cut short as Bantumeh stood and shouted, "I dispute your vision, Uhe!"