Dave Duncan - West of January

“No. They need you, herdman. There are no other herds around, not that I can find. Three women and their kids…they can’t ride horses and scout water holes—they’ll die if you won’t come. They need a man, Knobil!”

Holy Father, but it was tempting! I dropped my eyes and scratched my head, pretending to think the matter over.

Either Quetti was lying and had been biding his time behind some nearby ridge, or he had worked a miracle of tracking and navigation to find his way back to this one water hole.

Angels did not believe in miracles, but a herdman could…

“Six horses!” Quetti remarked innocently. “The usual garbage mostly, but there’s one half-decent mare.”

I know I reacted to that, for a slight grin teased at the corners of his eyes. I looked away quickly. I did not want to know how much he had guessed about my dream.

“And at least three of the herders were looking down at me. You’ll have to clean those out real soon.”

He knew! Was he going to block me? I looked up and met perhaps the widest grin I had ever seen on his face.

“It’s on the level, Knobil. You want to say a prayer of thanks now, or something?”

“Maybe I should,” I said. “You first, and the Father next.”

He shook his head gently. “Looks like the Father wants you to succeed! But if you’re plotting what I think you are, you’re going to need a lot more divine help—a lot more! Better thank Him first.”

I thumped Quetti’s shoulder and turned hastily away. “I’ll get my bow,” I said.

AGAIN I STOOD IN THE GRASS and watched the scarlet chariot sail away over the ridges, creaking and bouncing; but this time I caught a faint snatch of song from Quetti, and we waved our faint goodbyes. He had refused my offer of hospitality. Neither of us wanted to endure another farewell.

Again I lurched down a hillside in my awkward gait, feeling absurdly naked in my pagne and hat. This time I had no sack of meat, and faint thoughts of roast dasher wandered already around my salivary glands.

I headed for the brilliant tents and the anxious crowd awaiting. Smoke streamed from the fire, and two last small herders were racing in from the distant woollies, passing a fresh grave.

I thought of Anubyl and his arrival at my father’s camp, and I remembered my awful terror then. Pushing my hat back on my head, I donned a cheerful expression. Then I remembered what a monstrosity I must seem to them, and I hastily changed my expression to one of studied competence.

I reached the first tent, and there stood a wide-eyed child.

Holding a baby.

Great Heaven! I had forgotten how young…

“Don’t kneel,” I said hastily. “I can’t, so why should you? I am Knobil.”

“I am Jasinala, sir.”

“And who is this sweet little lass?”

Jasinala shivered with terror. “It’s a boy, sir.”

“He’s a fine young fellow,” I said hastily. “Er…you’ll do better next time.”

“Oh, I shall try, sir!” She seemed hardly able to believe my benevolence. Real herdmasters disapproved of women who bore sons. Pretty little thing, I thought. I smiled again to reassure her and rolled over to the next.

Tolomith, she said. She seemed very little older than Jasinala, but she had three small children clutching at her. I eyed the youngest and made a guess. “You are bearing?”

She nodded unhappily. “I think so, sir. But I can—”

“No! Keep it! I wish you safe labor, Tolomith.” I was no impatient, sex-mad Anubyl. Alongside all these children I felt like a grandfather.

And unless something terrible had happened to all my seafolk offspring, I certainly must be a grandfather by now, many times over!

But Tolomith was beautiful.

Then the third…

“I am Allinoth, sir.”

“I am Knobil.”

She was about my age, grizzled and plump. There were ten children clustered around her, but no babes, no toddlers. Her two oldest boys flanked her like trees. She must be a survivor of the great disaster, while Jasinala and Tolomith would be the next generation. The herdfolk were only just reestablishing their culture.

I saw bewilderment chase the fear from Allinoth’s face and realized that I was grinning widely at her. I was thinking how this camp would have seemed to me when I was traveling with Violet, and how disgusted I would have been then had he chosen Allinoth’s tent for us to share. Likely I would adjust to having child wives in time, but at the moment this mature mother of ten seemed a much more interesting companion for me than those two unfortunate girls. Yet why should I think of them as unfortunate? They probably thought themselves very lucky not to have been sold to the traders.

Allinoth’s oldest daughter was holding her chin up defiantly. She had her hands behind her, and I decided she was pulling her robe tight so I would notice the bulges.

“And you?”

“Haniana, sir.”

“You’re very beautiful.”

She blushed and smirked sideways at her mother. Well, I would certainly make her wait longer than she expected.

Then I could look at Allinoth’s sons. As Quetti had said, three were near to adolescence. The two largest were obviously twins, alike as two arrows and skinny. They flinched at my attention, but their cold and sullen gaze was telling me that a crippled midget did not meet their standards of manhood. They were both holding their arms very close to their sides.

“Your names?”

“Karrox, sir.”

“Kithinor, sir.”

“Can either of you use a bow?”

They shook their heads in terrified denial.

“Then, after I have enjoyed some of your mother’s cooking and perhaps had a little rest… I shall start your lessons. Look over there!” I pointed across the lake, to where one far tree stood apart from all the others, in solitary defiance. They turned to stare uncomprehendingly. I took my time, for it was a very difficult shot, even for me. Then my arrow streaked over the water… thunk!

“Like that!”

Their eyes flicked back to mine, brimming with instant respect. I wondered if the future of Vernier had been changed by that one deft bowshot.

“Karrox, organize the herders. Kithinor, dig out my arrow—carefully! Then you can both cut a good stout, straight branch apiece. About this long and this thick. I’ll show you how to shape it. Of course you won’t be as good as me for quite a long while. But we’ll work on it together. And riding lessons, too!”

One flew off like a startled bird, the other began berating the youngsters. I turned back to their mother, who was glowing at me as if she had just been promised Paradise.

“I have not tasted roast dasher since I was a little older than them,” I said. “Have you any dasher meat?”

She beamed, nodding. “It’s not quite fresh, sir, but certainly not tainted yet.”

I smiled an uneasy acceptance.

“And afterward, sir? We should make up a tent for Haniana?”

I was about to say that as senior, she was entitled to entertain me first. But Haniana smirked again and pulled her shift ever tighter, and I remembered Rilana, my sister, and her ambitions at that age. No real herdman would have hesitated for an instant—and I was already far from being the ideal herdman. I resigned myself to staying in character for the role I was playing.

“Of course,” I said.

Allinoth sighed with relief. “And…sir? You did mean what you told my boys? You will not send them out yet?”

“I meant it. I have big plans for them.”

Twins! Truly the Heavenly Father was smiling on my madcap venture. I inspected the horses, then went over to the hearth and played with a couple of toddlers until the food was ready. Afterward Haniana got what she wanted. She seemed to enjoy the process a lot. To be honest, so did I.