Eric Flint - Mother of Demons

And in the grove itself, to Kopporu's amazement, were several owoc. Feeding on the leaves. Their mantles rippling with green.

The tension in her body eased, slightly.

The Mother of Demons cannot be a cruel monster, then. No owoc would remain in the vicinity of such. Certainly not with that color on their mantles.

Then Kopporu saw the Mother of Demons herself, and was unable to prevent orange from glowing in her mantle.

She is so small! Smaller than any of them!

She had been expecting an enormous creature. As big as-as what? How big would a Mother of Demons be? Like a kraken, Kopporu had thought.

Kopporu did not doubt for a moment what she was seeing, however. There was no mistaking the stance of the demons in the clearing. The small one was clearly the center of authority and respect.

There were many demons in the clearing, she saw. Most of them with darts in their palps, but not all. She saw a number of very small demons, clutching the peds of the big ones, peeking around at the new arrivals.

Children. Like new-spoken spawn. Shy, but filled with curiosity.

The tension eased further.

Surely not even the Mother of Demons would order a massacre in front of such.

There were gukuy in the clearing as well. A good number of them. Several were standing near to the Mother of Demons, one of them-an old gukuy-at her very side. Clearly, these gukuy also occupied positions of respect and authority.

Kopporu was not certain, but she thought most of the gukuy were Pilgrims of the Way. Perhaps all of them. She had no doubt that the old gukuy standing next to the Mother was a Pilgrim. It was somehow obvious.

Her tension eased still further. The Kiktu had always approved of the new religion, since they first became aware of it. Even the old clan leaders. The ideas of the Pilgrims were strange, of course. Difficult to grasp. But one thing had always been clear about them. Unlike all other southerners, the Pilgrims venerated the Old Ones. Not, Kopporu thought, for the same reasons as the Kiktu. But the veneration itself was enough. The Kiktu had granted permission for the Pilgrims to pass through their territory, which many of them had. Seeking refuge, they said, in the Chiton.

I had not realized there were so many of them.

Over time, a number of the Kiktu themselves had adopted the Way. Young warriors seemed especially attracted to the new creed. Kopporu knew that, during the trek through the Swamp, many more had become converted by their sisters. There were no clan leaders to give them stern lectures about hallowed tribal ancestors.

Kopporu knew little, herself, of the beliefs of the Pilgrims. She had been curious, and had felt the desire to investigate. But the necessities of command had driven all other thought aside.

One thing she did know, however. The Pilgrims would defend themselves, flails in palps, against attack. But they were not given to violence. Indeed, they were known to speak against it. Kopporu looked again at the old gukuy.

A Pilgrim sage. I am certain of it.

Surely the Mother of Demons would not order a massacre in front of such.

Kopporu and Guo were now alone at the head of the column, except for Guo's preconsorts. Kopporu could see Woddalukotat and Yurra, peering out from under Guo's cowl.

Advise her, young males. Advise her.

When she was still a few goa from the Mother of Demons, Kopporu halted. Guo drew to a halt beside her.

The Mother of Demons advanced. Alone, Kopporu saw with surprise. Closer and closer, until she was standing at tentacle's length away, directly in front of Kopporu.

"You are Kopporu, the battle leader of your army."

Her voice was odd, and her accent harsh, but her command of Kiktu was excellent.

Kopporu made the gesture of affirmation.

"I am Inudiratoledo. The being who is sometimes called the Mother of Demons. You and I will speak at length, battle leader, and soon. But first, I must speak to another."

Suddenly, in the quick and flickering manner of demons, she was standing in front of Guo. Very closely, looking up at the huge head of the battlemother looming above her.

Kopporu felt a moment's fear. Guo's maces were in their halters, of course-not even the young fool was so stupid as to have marched into the lair of the Mother of Demons with her maces in her palps. But she would not need maces. Whatever terrible power the Mother of Demons wielded, it was obviously not a power of the body. The Mother of Demons would be like a tiny slug in Guo's great palps, her life crushed out of her body in a moment. With her arms alone, Kopporu thought, Guo could kill the Mother of Demons.

Then, to both Guo and Kopporu's astonishment, the Mother of Demons reached up her-palps?-and stroked Guo's arms. Guo began to flinch, then-at a sharp whisper from Woddulakotat-froze.

"And you are the Great Mother Guo. So young. I had not realized how young. My warriors did not tell me."

The demon continued stroking Guo's arms. After a moment, the arms began to relax.

"So very young, to have taken such a burden on yourself. So much courage that must have taken. And much wisdom."

Kopporu repressed a whistle of derision.

Courage-yes. Too much, even. But wisdom?

Kopporu began thinking many unkind thoughts concerning Guo's "wisdom." Until she remembered the day, eightweeks before, in the big clearing of the Swamp. When the young fool Guo had shown more wisdom than the rest of the people combined. Guo alone-and, Kopporu knew, her young preconsorts.

As long as she keeps her temper. And listens to Woddulakotat, and Yurra.

The Mother of Demons made a strange gesture with her head. Pointing, Kopporu realized, with that oddly flat, armless face.

"And who are these two? Introduce me, if you please."

Guo's mantle was rippling with many colors, now. Orange and ochre predominated. Blue-Kopporu saw with relief-was completely absent.

Guo's voice was hesitant.

"They are named Woddulakotat-he is the eumale-and Yurra. They are my preconsorts. And my close advisers."

Petulantly, then: "My closest advisers, and the dearest to my heart. Even if some of my people don't approve."

Kopporu repressed a whistle. One of the old warriors had made the mistake of lecturing Guo, a few days earlier, on the impropriety of allowing her preconsorts to remain in her mantle once they were out of the Swamp. The necessity of protecting the little males could override custom in the swamp, she had allowed, ponderously, but once they were out of it-well. It just wasn't done. They were not, after all, properly wedded.

Guo's answer had been short, to the point, and very rude.

It really isn't proper, thought Kopporu wrily. But I'm afraid it's too late, anyway, to save Guo's morals. I've heard the noises she's starting to make at night. With her preconsorts nowhere in sight. Not even mature-neither she nor they! She'd deny it, of course, but I know the truth. They're starting to-practice.

A strange noise was coming from the Mother of Demons. Her face was twisted into a bizarre shape.

Humor. That must be the way the demons whistle amusement.

"People are often foolish, Guo. My own husband"-the demon gestured toward a large, roundish-shaped demon nearby- "is my closest adviser also. And, always, the dearest to my heart."

Guo's mantle was suddenly tinged with green. Slowly, her own arms began to return the caress of the Mother of Demons.

Kopporu knew, then, that her people would live. And forgave Guo all of her many, many, many sins.

By the end of the first eightweek, Indira knew that the critical moment had passed. There was still much to be settled, and much, much more to be done. Her life seemed to have become nothing but an endless round of meetings and discussions, and she knew that there was no end yet in sight.