Eric Flint: Mother of Demons

Most of the gukuy present were barbarian tribespeople, but there were three Pilgrims, as well, and one she thought was a swamp-dweller. She recognized one of the Pilgrims, although she did not know her name. Long ago, the Pilgrim had been a warrior in the Anshac legions, and Nukurren remembered seeing her from time to time in the Warrior's Square.

She made the gesture of recognition, and apologized for not remembering the Pilgrim's name.

"I am Rurroc, Nukurren."

"When did you leave the legions?"

"Not until we sought refuge in the Chiton. But I had long been a follower of Ushulubang. Since shortly after you and Dhowifa fled Shakutulubac."

"Why did you become a Pilgrim?"

"Because of you."

For a moment, Nukurren's shoroku almost wavered.

"Because of me? "

The gesture of assent. "Yes, Nukurren. Many warriors joined the Pilgrims after you fled. At least double-eight that I know of." Sensing Nukurren's puzzlement, Rurroc continued: "It was because we thought it was very unjust."

"Why? I was a deserter. And I stole one of the Paramount Mother's husbands."

The gesture of dismissal. "Not that. Everything that went before."

Nukurren was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, "I had not realized anyone cared."

"Many cared, Nukurren. But it was impossible to tell you, then. You were not easy to approach."

Nukurren thought back to the past, and, grudgingly, admitted to herself that Rurroc was possibly right. She had, perhaps One of the Kiktu whistled amusement. Nukurren stared at her. She had recognized the warrior at once, of course.

"What do you find so humorous, Kokokda?" she demanded, speaking in Kiktu.

"You! There you are, pondering Rurroc's words. 'Perhaps I was a mite touchy.' 'Possibly I was, just a tiny bit'-what is a good Enagulishuc word, Dzhenushkunutushen?"

The demon laughed. "How about 'prickly'?" The demon explained the term, while all the warriors practiced pronouncing it. Their efforts were made difficult by the fact that most of them were whistling gleefully.

Throughout, of course, Nukurren maintained her shoroku. But, at the end, she too joined in the humor.

"I suppose I have been, perhaps, just a trace- purrikkulai. "

She made the gesture of welcome to Kokokda.

"I am pleased to see that you have survived."

"I owe it to you, Nukurren," replied Kokokda. There was no trace of humor in her tone now. "Had it not been for the lesson you gave me long ago, I would also have become as foolish as the clan leaders. It was a hard lesson, but well worth it."

"Hard?" demanded Nukurren. "Foolish sp-what is the Enagulishuc word for 'spawn'?"

"Child," replied Dzhenushkunutushen. "The plural is children. Boy, if male. Girl, if female."

"Foolish dzhiludh. Very stupid gurrul. That lesson was not hard. The beaks of Utuku at the victory feast are hard. The flail tips of Anshac legions are hard. Helotry is hard. Slavery is hard. Life is hard. The universe is hard."

Again, the group of warriors whistled. When the humor died down, Nukurren scrutinized them carefully. Nukurren knew one of the other Kiktu personally. She had spent a pleasant afternoon in Ipapo's company, long ago, during the time when she and Dhowifa lived in exile among the Kiktu. She made the gesture of recognition, which Ipapo returned.

Nukurren now examined Aktako. She had seen the Kiktu warrior, but had never spoken to her. Dhowifa said she was Kopporu's lover as well as the chief of her personal guard. Aktako was the oldest gukuy present, and not particularly large. But Nukurren sensed instantly that she was a deadly warrior. Aktako stared back at her, and the two veterans exchanged an unspoken, ungestured, recognition.

Whether she knew them personally or not, they all had one thing in common, which was immediately obvious to Nukurren's experienced eye. They were the toughest veterans at Kopporu's disposal.

Tough enough, I think. Aktako certainly. And, of course, Ipapo. And Kokokda as well, if she has truly learned her lesson. Which she must have, or she would not be here. The others? Yes, I believe so.

She was silent, thinking. Those thoughts, at first, moved far away from the gukuy before her. But, after a time, her thoughts returned and settled upon them. Throughout her long silence, they had squatted patiently. Now, returning her gaze, they remained still and motionless.

Nukurren understood, and appreciated, and then accepted, their own acceptance of her. And she thought that perhaps the Mother of Demons was right, after all. She was still skeptical, but-the eyes were there, after all, staring back at her unflinchingly. The eyes of outcasts, refugees, exiles, with nothing in their gaze but confidence and trust.

"Do you think it can be done?" Nukurren asked. She was looking at Aktako, but it was Kokokda who answered.

"Train a new army? Yes, Nukurren, it can-"

"That is not the question," interrupted Aktako. "She knows the answer to that question."

Aktako made the gesture of bemused uncertainty.

"Who knows, Nukurren? I did not think we could cross the swamp. But I was determined not to give that muck the satisfaction of my defeat. And, after a time, we were through the swamp. Then, we met the Utuku ogghoxt. I did not think we would survive the battle. But I was determined not to give the cannibals the satisfaction of a meal. Then the demons came, and destroyed the Utuku. And perhaps that is what you need to ask yourself."

Aktako gestured toward the young demon.

"I think there is more to this world than we know, Nukurren. So I think we should not assume the world will always defeat us. Did not this same world allow demons to exist? And who knows what can happen to a world which has demons in it?"

Nukurren looked away from Aktako's hard stare, and examined the gaze of a much smaller pair of eyes. Eyes of fury.

"And why are you here?" Nukurren asked.

The demon made that strange facial gesture which served them as a whistle of amusement.

"You are my friend, Nukurren, and I thought you could use some moral support. Besides, my wounds are almost healed, and it's my job. I'm the Sharredzhenutumadzhoru of the apalatunush. We ummun and the gukuy warriors will need to learn to coordinate our efforts." The armless, flat-faced gesture of ruefulness. "We didn't do so well in the last battle."

"Not true. The Pilgrims did extremely well," said Nukurren forcefully. "The demons were stupid. Especially the big male demons who led them, thinking they were invincible. Mindless spdzhiludhurren. Very stupid buyush. I shall tell Ludumilaroshokavashiki to seek another mate. Why waste love on one who is determined to die?"

Nukurren could not misunderstand the meaning of the gesture which the young demon now made, alien though it was. The slight bow, the clasping hands.

We were invincible, Nukurren. We had you. And still do. Teacher.

Suddenly, she was filled with love for the young demon. As always, her mantle remained gray. But she made the gesture of fondness to the boy. With some difficulty, for it was a gesture she knew but had never made herself before. Then, to the assembled warriors, she made the gesture of respect. And finally, to Aktako, she made the unnudh wap kottu.

"I think you are right, Aktako," Nukurren said. "And, even if you are not, we should not give the world the satisfaction of our surrender."

"Wait here," she commanded them, and went back into the command circle.

"You spoke of an ancient warrior, who taught a new people the craft of war," she said to the Mother of Demons. "What was her-his – name?"

"Steuben. Baron Friedrich von Steuben."

Nukurren made the gesture of negation.

"That is too long."

She turned to leave. "I accept, Mother of Demons. I will be your shutuppen."

The ranks of the future army of the nashiyonu were drawn up in the center of the valley. In ragged files.